The Storm on our Shores
by Zergface
Summary: With the apocalypse all but certain, too many questions remain unanswered. To reveal the secrets behind the end of an era, the Combined Fleet decides to investigate the source of a mysterious call for help: Japari Park. Nav/Air Ops and Combined Arms meet Friends in a 2018 unlike our own. (On Hold)
1. Chapter 1

The sunset over Japari Park was always spectacular. With the yellows, oranges and reds all fading into one beautiful painting, Serval would always do her best to stay awake to see the setting sun. Tonight's sunset shone brilliantly over the Savanna, with fiery hues reflecting across distant mountains, which in turn exhaled long shadows over the wide open plains.

The star surveyed it's territory like an eye, its fantastic colors spreading across Serval's cheeks as if it were a deep blush.

This afternoon, the calm winds of the Savanna area caught the dry grass like waves over the ocean, the sound of the gentle swishing lulling any spectators into a deep sleep.

Serval allowed her head to rest on the thick branch of her tree, her body lost to the sounds of the wind. With her head tilted towards the setting sun, the scent of the sun-bleached tree was that of dry, dark wood. And that smell was just like the one from the lodge- the one she had visited on her journey with Kaban.

Kaban...

The _Friend_ , as her kind was called, sighed, her tail waving lazily in the wind. Thinking back to the lodge reminded her of why she was there in the first place, leading her pointed ears to twitch with a hint of anxiety.

How was Kaban doing now?

Serval had hoped to come along with Kaban at the last second by making a boat of her own, but eventually decided against it. Her desire to stay at Kaban's side was so intense that it still tugged at her chest.

Just thinking of Kaban, all alone, drifting off to some forlorn island out at sea, sent her belly into spirals. What was she doing now? Did they pack her enough food to make it to a new land? Did Kaban find other humans? And as much as she didn't want to admit it out loud, Serval hoped that Kaban would come back.

That day out on the harbor… that wasn't the end. Right?

Serval thought and thought and thought, letting her rampant anxieties get the better of her. It wasn't her intention to get so caught up on the 'what ifs', but there were so many unknowns…

Tossing and turning over her branch, Serval's face twisted and convulsed with an unfounded fear of what she didn't know.

With one final sigh, the feline let her arms dangle down, her fur tickled by the free flowing wind. Her eyes were closed shut as she tried to squeeze out those feelings.

In the end, she knew that only time would be able to reveal the answers to the questions she never knew she had.

It wasn't easy to resign for the night, but the setting sun did the work for her.

The sky grew dark, with splashes of maroon and navy blue above the mountains to the west. As the light dimmed, Serval's instinctual clock ticked to a dreary limit that she knew was a countdown to her inevitable sleep.

Curled up tight, making sure she wouldn't slip and fall, Serval's soft, shallow breathing gave room for clarity to fill her mind.

With only the wind at her back and the rustling of an unbound nature to fill her ears, sleep came easy.

 _I wonder_ , she thought, _I wonder if there's a world over the horizon. I wonder if Kaban is out there now, in the habitat of humans. Somewhere over the waves…_

 _...Over the waves…_

* * *

A massive wave crashed against the mighty hull of the USS Carl Vinson, a Nimitz-class supercarrier belonging to the United States Navy's Carrier Strike Group One.

Escort ships were buffeted by ravenous winds and a rainstorm rivaling that of a monsoon. Blackened night skies were made even more dangerous with the accompaniment of rowdy grey clouds dotted with lightning.

The Navy burst through a mammoth sized wave, the salty seawater exploding like a bomb against the ship's fading paint job. Weathered by hundreds of storms just like this one, the USS Carl Vinson sailed through the seas like a knife, the ocean plowing over the deck and washing away any debris that might have been left in yesterday's sun.

Deck-based FA/18 Multirole Fighters and other battered aircraft from Carrier Air Wing Two were safely clamped to the surface of the ship in anticipation for this virulent sea state.

For some reason, the weather surrounding the Japari Islands had always been unceasingly rough. Although it was common knowledge that there was some sort of resort or animal conservatory on the islands, the secrets behind the Japari Islands were kept in a 'need to know' system.

No one knew anything about the Japaris, and no one cared, really. It wasn't big on the maps, and it was never in the news.

Until the turn of 2012 did the name 'Japari' mean anything to the modern world.

The year begin as monstrous creatures hid onboard cargo ships en route for Japan. Modern stowaways from a fictional world, they were called.

Completely unknown and unlike anything fathomable in reality, they multiplied like rats. The creatures, called 'Ceruleans' by the Japanese, spread across the whole world like a wildfire, like a plague- with no capacity for sentience and a permanent kill switch flipped somewhere in their deformed bodies, the Ceruleans spread across the globe in a matter of days.

Days. Just days.

It was now 2018 onboard the USS Carl Vinson, and almost no one had seen real dirt, real mountains, in a long, long time. Supplied by daring runs to mainland Asia, Austrialia and other Pacific islands, the American carrier group managed to link up with surviving ships from other navies and civilians over the years.

A Combined Fleet, they called themselves.

Without communications to the mainland, the world as we know it seemingly erased from existence. Gone.

But why?

The last survivors of a dead race needed to know.

It was their duty.

Sailing close to the Japari Islands, the carrier group's leading destroyer escort picked up a faint but discernible radio message. A crumb on the trail to the unknown, plucked out despite interference from the storm.

It was originating from somewhere on the island of Kyōshū, one of the few islands that made of the Japari Islands.

Listening closely, the harrowing voice of a woman on repeat could be filtered through the static, over and over. A prerecorded message. In an instant, the men and women of the Mixed Fleet knew exactly what they had to do.

" _Japari Park… eace… m… Evacuation didn't come soon enough… my fault that… Sandstar eruption… S-stop them!"_

* * *

 _Beep… Beep… Beep…_

The screen beeped to the beat of Kaban's heart, each beep corresponding with a fleeting thought flying through her greyed out mind.

 _Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Kaban tried moving her arms up to wipe her face, only to find them tucked under a thin blanket.

With the sand in the corners of her eyes piling up like an annoying roadblock, Kaban reached up her left arm to try and clear her ruined vision.

 _Oh no…_ She thought as she lazily rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her stomach churned. _I feel… seasick?_

The feeling was new to her, and the nausea was only magnified by her vision returning to her.

Kaban's frayed black hair danged in front of her eyes, leading the human to push them away.

 _Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Kaban inched her weary eyes around her bed, hungry to know more.

Immediately she noticed a thin plastic tube stuck in her right wrist, and like a snake or a leech a sickly looking liquid flowed through it. Feeling an alien pressure in her arm, Kaban gasped, reaching for her arm with a free hand.

Although she wanted to pull out the strange tube, she was afraid that she would do more harm than good. Coupled with the fact that one end was taped securely to her skin, it would be painful to get it out.

 _Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Kaban's heart began to race as her surroundings dawned on her. She was lying down on a thin bed in some sort of cramped grey room that smelled like wet paint and plastic. Tubes connected screens to other screens, bags of liquid to her arm, and wires to other holes that looked nothing like anything she remembered from Japari Park.

With no windows in sight, and some screens around her and on the walls, Kaban was scared out of her mind. What was going on?

She last remembered the sight of the ocean. Leaving the island in search of humans, or maybe even a home for herself in a world where she didn't feel that she really belonged. After all, all the Friends back in the park were part animal, and she was just a human. That couldn't be right for her.

Kaban breathed. In one second, and out another.

She had to remain calm to find out what was going on.

Taking another deep breath, there was a gentle rap on the door across from her.

Was someone there? Was someone out to try and eat her?

"I'm coming in!"

A muffled voice on the other end exclaimed, chipper and at ease.

The door clicked open, swinging soundlessly. With her eyes fixated on the new entrant, Kaban gasped.

A person without ears, without a tail, without claws or fur stepped inside. Donning a white lab coat, there was no way this was any ordinary Friend.

"How are you?" The entrant asked. The woman in the lab coat seemed nice, giving Kaban a warm smile as she brought a tray into the room.

"I'm… I'm fine…" Kaban stammered, anxious.

"Fine? I'm happy to hear it. My name is doctor Elizabeth, and I'm wondering if you'd be willing to share your name."

Elizabeth placed her tray onto a table in the corner, adjusting her ponytail with a free hand. Eyeing Kaban enthusiastically, the human felt compelled to respond.

"I'm Kaban." She nodded. "Are you a human?"

The words escaped her lips before she realized she was saying them.

"Me?" Elizabeth quipped, pointed at herself. Smiling as if Kaban had just told her a hilarious joke, she continued. "Yes, yes I am."

"Woah…" Kaban couldn't help but stare in awe. This was someone from her own race?

Elizabeth approached the bed holding a cup of water in one hand and a shiny white pill in the other. "Kaban, do you swallow pills or do you prefer a chewable?"

"Pills?" Kaban muttered, raising her eyebrows. "What's a pill?"

The doctor blinked, confused. Almost annoyed.

"This medicine is supposed to help you recover from your unconciousness." Elizabeth extended her palm, the one holding the pill. "This is a pill, and I don't know if you prefer swallowing them or chewing them, we can do one or the other if you'd like."

The doctor's patience was running thin, and Kaban wasn't sure what to say. She really didn't know how pills worked, and she wasn't sure if the doctor knew this or not.

"Umm… I'll swallow it." Kaban tentatively took the cup from Elizabeth in one hand, and the pill in the other.

Frowning, she dunked the pill in the water and swallowed it while drinking from the cup. This is what she meant by swallowing, right?

Elizabeth was satisfied, and took the cup back from Kaban.

"I'll be back in a moment, Kaban." The doctor placed the cup in a small sink, then stepped to the door. "Now that you're able to talk, I have a friend that wants to talk with you."

The doctor left, just like that.

Alone and feeling dejected, Kaban frowned. Here she was, finally surrounded by humans. Like the world was taunting her, Kaban felt so utterly alone.

Her chest swelled up from the feelings that she couldn't pin down as easily. Was this joy, finally coming across her own species? Or was it sadness, sadness drawn from the unknowns of what will happen next and the uncertainty of where she even was.

Just as she begun to think to herself, the metal door swung open once more.

A man stepped inside this time, alongside Elizabeth.

He wore a cap on his head and a sharp uniform that seemed intimidating to the girl. Colored blue and grey all over, in a fuzzy, confusing pattern, the uniformed man knelt beside the bed.

The man adjusted his hat so it pointed upwards, showing off some of the hair on the front of his head. He had a thin beard on his chin and below his nose, indicating that he was much, much older than she was.

"You're Kaban?" He asked with a deep, gruff voice that was nothing short of scary.

Kaban nodded, humming affirmatively.

The man blinked, slowly nodding- more to himself as opposed to responding to Kaban.

"My name is Captain Thomas Henry, but you can call me Thomas." Not pausing to let Kaban greet him in return, Thomas spoke as if it were more of a chore than a pleasure. "We found you out in the open ocean, passed out on a makeshift raft… it's too much of a stretch to call it a boat."

Captain Thomas stood up, sternly eyeing Kaban with a face that spelled urgency.

"How did you get there, Kaban?"

* * *

A bright sunrise over the skies of the Southern Pacific.

Nothing special. The star in the east was nothing more than a nuisance when flying, a blinding ball of light that would end up costing you your life in a close ranged skirmish.

Of course it was nice to have light up in the clouds when you were flying, but from a high altitude the light would reflect on the cloud layer, creating another blinding hazard for pilots without the proper protective gear.

Jack "Homecoming" O'brien wasn't worrying about getting blinded, however. His flight helmet was wrapped over his entire head as snug as a pig in a blanket. The visor, looking like the compound eyes of an insect, was perfectly capable of mitigating the effects of bright light. His mouth and nose were held in another part of the helmet like a mask, connected to a container of air by a tube in the event he would need it.

His FA/18C Multirole Aircraft was tucked neatly at the front of his flight's formation. In the early morning light, Jack could definitely have used another cup of coffee, even if the rationing system prohibited him from getting one. After all, he was a pilot- a specialty that became more and more valuable as time on the open ocean went on.

They were getting ready to land marines on the island of Kyōshū, the island reported to be the origin point of the broadcast. Not only that, but the person that the group had rescued the other day was keen on this island being home to not only Ceruleans, but several new species of creatures.

But Jack was skeptical.

Opening his mouth, the stuffy helmet muffled his voice.

"Darkstar, Enfield one-one, requesting picture, over."

Jack's flight was callsign Enfield, and he was curious as to the air traffic in the area. He had hailed the mission's AWACS, or Airborne Warning and Control System, Darkstar, to get an idea of any other aircraft in the Japari Islands. As in the past there was never anything in the skies, Jack was asking out of paranoia as opposed to actual practicality.

"Enfield one-one, skies are clear. What are you even trying to do, over?"

The radio operator over in the AWACS was young, and spoke with hopes to tease Jack.

"Just double checking, over." Jack O'brien spoke fast, looking out of his cockpit and at the island in the distance.

He wasn't far from Kyōshū, an island featuring a massive volcano. He hadn't heard of the Japari Islands until recently, when he was told that they would be getting close on their way to Okinawa. There was an... amusement park there? A zoo at one point? Whatever there was, it was nothing that shouted importance

"You anxious?" The man over the radio asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"I guess, yeah." Sighing, 'Homecoming' let his eyes wander to the instruments in his cockpit, then to the HUD mounted in front of him. "I can't believe we fished someone out of the water like that."

"You heard?" Darkstar exclaimed. "They said it was a little girl. Something about not knowing anything about people, as if she had been living under a rock for the past ten years. Personally, I think that's crazy talk."

"You could say that again," Jack said, flicking his radar on and off. "I just hope that we find something on this damn rock. Marines being sent in by helicopter… jeez. They ought to know we don't have enough fuel to just waste on stupid missions."

"She said something about animal people on Kyōshū. Could you believe that? People with animal qualities and features." The man scoffed. "Miss me with that childish shit."

Jack grinned, looking out at the island. The sunlight reflected off the glass, making the image a little hazy for him to see.

"I don't want to shut down any possibilities. You know how stupid the Ceruleans sounded at first, and well…"

They both said nothing for a while, letting silence reign.

"Enfield one-one, Darkstar," Darkstar started off by calling Jack by his formal callsign, and he knew that they were getting into action. "Report from November one through three indicates feet dry in under ten mikes, advise you get your radar on, over."

"Darkstar, Enfield one-one copies all, out."

Jack switched frequencies with the flick of a dial, hopping to talk with his flight.

"Flight, radar on."

As soon as he gave the order, a chorus of affirmatives lined the airways.

Jack reached for his radar and turned it on as well, making sure his four AGM-88 HARM missiles would be ready to get a lock and fire in an instant, just in case.

In terms of fluidy, the mission seemed to be going swimmingly. The three transport helicopters, designated 'November', were right on time. There was no sign of any hostiles, be it human or Cerulean.

This would be a piece of cake and a half. Who knows what they'll find on Kyōshū.

On occasion, the men of CSG1 would send a scavenging group to land in order to get supplies. This time would be no exception-

"Enfield one-two to one-one, I got a mud spike at our one o'clock, check your RWR!"

The shouting of his wingman tore Jack to his senses, and his eyes darted to the warning receiver on his dashboard. Sure enough, the screen revealed that there was a ground-to-air radar lighting up the flight.

A steadily chirping beep filled his ears, and O'brien could feel his stomach crawl. Something was emitting a strong radar pulse.

How? How and why would there be a surface-to-air weapon system on some random, insignificant island?

"Give me a sec-" Jack quickly swapped frequencies to talk to Darkstar when his TEWS began blinking. Swapping back to his flight, he shifted in his seat. "Huh?"

"Watch it, SAM launch at our twelve!" Another wingman cried out, breathing heavily. "W-which one of us is the lucky bastard?"

No one spoke.

"Fuck." Someone said, mirroring what everyone was thinking. As chater filled the comms, Jack looked down and out of the window, towards the island.

There was almost a speck of light, a flicker of fire, a tiny spark on the coastline and the contrail of a missile leading back from the volcano. A helicopter was hit.

A second round of beeping lit up Jack's helmet, and then a third. Wherever that SAM battery was, it was going to massacre all those helpless marines before they even touched the ground.

"Enfield three, requesting permission to kill that son-of-a-"

"He's all yours!" Jack interrupted, looking out to his right. The wingman that just spoke zoomed ahead, firing up his afterburners.

With a grey set of contrails streaking out behind him, Jack trusted his partner to score the kill.

"Magnum, Magnum! Missile away!" The pilot exclaimed, grimacing as a HARM anti-radiation missile ripped through the clouds.

Just as his flight had begun to all break away, Jack heard an electronic alarm blare through his ears.

 _ **Missile, twelve o'clock low!**_

The artificial voice told Jack O'brien the news he had been dreading.

 _Shit._ He thought, his left arm stuck on the afterburner. _You ought to be kidding me…_

"I got spiked - I'm engaged defensive!" Jack said calmly and with a aura of finality. All other sounds escaped him as the beeping overcame his entire being.

He wrenched his flight stick to the left, towards the island, and rotated his aircraft around. Jerking on the stick, he heaved it towards himself with a firm hand.

His breathing grew labored as the entire aircraft struggled to push such a high-G maneuver, and Jack felt his whole body be pushed into his seat. His eyes darted to his dashboard again, and the neon indications across his RWR forced a weight down his stomach.

As the missile drew in close he slammed on the button to dispense his chaff countermeasure, hoping to spoof the projectile as it honed in on him.

 _Just a little further..._

A powerful and sudden burst of violence raced through the plane, the force of the missile's impact throwing his body forwards, backwards, all around. His mind smashed against the back of his helmet as if he could foresee his entire person being thrust out of the doomed cockpit at unfathomable speeds.

 _ **Engine fire left. NES failure. ACS failure. Engine fire right. ECM failure.**_

 _ **Warning. Warning. Critical speed.**_

With his whole body reduced to a slob of jello and a garbled mess, the warnings were thrown at deaf ears. All Jack cared about was reaching for the ejection handle.

The spinning of the aircraft astounded Homecoming, who felt tears streak from his eyes from the intense pressure. His airplane was in a death spiral, one that would be impossible to escape, even in the best of circumstances. With so many systems failing, Jack's arm reached for the bright red handle on his right.

Fighting against gravity itself, his hand finally made it. And he pulled.

With a bellowing roar he burst from the tumbling jet plane, his body becoming a hacky sack tossed straight into the air. The deafening roar of his burning engines left a ringing in his ears as they grew dimmer and dimmer, their fiery morass streaking for the flatlands below.

With all the forces acting on his ragdoll of a body all at once, Jack 'Homecoming' O'brien felt his consciousness slip from reality…

And then everything was nothing.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Kemono friends leaves so much up to question, to wonder, that I'm surprised that there aren't more stories out there.**

 **The way the show is carried out is extremely vague as to the circumstances surrounding Japari Park and how to got to be how it was, even when some things are explained at the end, there's too much to wonder.**

 **I'm hoping to draw the most logical conclusions with this, and... jeez... only today did I finish the actual show, and I'm already writing for it.**

 **Damn.**

 **EDITS/ERRORS:**

 **\- Darkstar's "AWACS" name is technically called an "AEW" as AWACS is referring to the USAF E3 sentry, not the E-2D that would be onboard the USS Carl Vinson.**

 **\- "Music" was replaced to "Radar" as the diddy "Music On" refers to the activation of ECM (electronic countermeasures), not radar.**

 **\- The shrill tone would be heard initially as indication of a missile firing, and the beeping heard in the cockpit should be an indication of a radar spike, not missile tone.**

 **\- Jack's maneuver, a leftward notch, would have been more than sufficient to evade the missile in real life.**


	2. Chapter 2

"Serval!"

A sharp cry rang over the Savanna. In the early morning light, Serval reluctantly roused from her spot in the tree. With eyes and ears still stinging from the sudden wake-up call, Serval blinked.

"Servaaaaaaaaaaal!"

This call was louder, running shrill into Serval's ears. She shook her head around, hoping it would wake her up faster. Searching for the source of the sounds, Serval scanned the flatland with the eyes of a predator.

Down below, the Savanna cat found her target in the form of the jumping body of Otter. Her grey hair bounced with urgency as she leapt up and down, waving her arms as she tried to grab the attention of the feline.

"Otter?" Serval asked slowly and tenaciously, still half asleep. Rubbing her eyes with one hand, she sighed. "What are you doing here? And why are you looking for me, for that matter?"

"Because!" Otter exclaimed, priming her body to spring back into the air. "Because I couldn't find Jaguar or the others… they got scared by the fire!"

"The fire?" Perking up, Serval slid off the branch she was on. With two feet planted among the tall grass, her tail swished in a fearful curiosity. "Is everyone okay?"

"Oh… I don't know!" The aquatic girl screeched, holding herself back from rocking back and forth from panic. "The fire came from the sky and woke me up, and now everything is…" She trailed off, pointing in the direction of the Jungle Area.

"C-come help!"

"H-help?" Serval muttered, hesitating for just a second. If her friends were in trouble, she had to lend a hand, especially if this fire was as bad as Otter was saying it was. Nodding with newfound composure, Serval stepped forwards. "Okay, okay! Let's go put out a fire!"

With the Jungle Area resident leading the way, the two Friends cut through the Savanna as fast as possible, moving at inhuman speeds as they pushed their legs to the limit. Following guidance in the form of a footpath, the two scaled hills and scampered around the watering hole which had already started to fill up with curiously onlooking bodies, all of which were too busy securing a spot around the pond to pay the two any heed.

The sun, barely poking its head over the horizon, shed some much needed light over the plains. Shadows stretched over the awakening landscape, with trees and the occasional billboard acting as silent landmarks monitoring their progress.

They managed to cross through the entrance in a matter of minutes, the more established roads and artificial entrance feeling oddly familiar to Serval. As they passed the place where Kaban and Serval had defeated the path-blocking Cerulean, Serval's mind wandered once more to the adventure they shared on Japari Park.

But those memories had to wait.

Serval and Otter had crossed into the Jungle Area at breathtaking speeds, the canopy of the rainforest blotting out the sun as they ran through the jungle. As they continued through a narrow path, Otter slowed down, physically unable to match the stamina that Serval inherently possessed. Panting heavily, the duo came to a standstill.

Otter's labored breathing was matched by the dark green backdrop of the flourishing rainforest. With the peaceful hum of insects and the calming calls of early birds surrounding them, Serval never would have suspected there was a fire in the Jungle Area.

Not as tired as she was short of breath, Serval stepped in front of Otter. She found it most peculiar that they hadn't seen any smoke, fires, or Friends yet. It was too early for most Friends to be awake, but someone other than Otter had to be around. After all, even if they were had just woken up, wouldn't they be worrying about the fire?

"Otter, was there really a fire?" Serval wasn't happy that she was doubting her own friend, but she felt that it was something that had to be said. "You weren't dreaming or anything?"

"No!" Otter stood with her hands on her knees, still heaving from running for so long. "I remember hearing this really wild noise down the river, like a HUUUUGE splash that was so big it shook the ground! I thought it would be fun to check it out. Then… then I saw the fire on the shoreline!"

"A big splash? Ground... shaking?" Serval shot Otter a curious look, ears twitching with amusement. "There must be something amazing over there, we should put out the fire and see!"

Otter tried smiling, but was interrupted by her insistent panting. "That sounds like a lot of fun… but there's fire!"

Serval frowned, remembering how scary fire was. It was one thing to have the word in your head, but it's another thing to remember just how that thing is in reality. For Serval, she had her mind set on the idea of fire as just a scary thing, but only now did she realize that she'd have to get near _real_ _fire_. The stuff that burns… and flickers… and spreads…

Shuddering, her artificial confidence skirted away. With the idea of fire now threatening to become a reality, Serval mentally shrinked at the idea of having to confront what scared her, and many others, so much.

But people were going to be in danger if this spread, right? This fire could hurt others if it got out of hand. If no one else would do it, she had to do something. It was the right thing to do. At least, that's how Serval reassured herself when she smiled at Otter.

"Let's go fight us a fire!"

Feeling more reassured by Serval's bright confidence, Otter stood up straight with a smile to match.

"O-okay! But you lead the way, now." Otter pointed down the path, towards the river. "It should be right down that way. I hope it didn't get too big while I was gone…"

Taking a deep breath, Serval pushed through the abundant vines and leaves as they trekked to the riverside. As they neared the water's edge, the sound of running water gained a gradually increasing clarity. It was a sound to behold, one that Serval had never quite gotten used to due to her time in the dry Savanna.

The world started getting brighter, as the rising sun found less and less trees to block its light from the rainforest floor.

The smell of smoke drew thicker as the trees grew thinner, and Serval's heart beat faster and faster as they got closer and closer to the edge, which snuck up on them before Serval even knew it.

* * *

Serval and Otter burst through the treeline and onto the banks of the wide rainforest river. Murky but awe inspiring, the rays of the sun shimmered on its dull, brownish surface. Serval stepped up to the edge of the water, where itsy bitsy waves washed over her toes and pebbles alike.

Otter was right. Something big had invaded their river, but any sort of fire had long since gone out.

Charred logs and branches littered the beach, while hot bits of charcoal stained the water. Little embers and tiny flames lapped at the water's edge, begging to stay alive as they threatened to die out from the slightest breeze.

"This looks so silly…" Otter smirked, looking up at the heap of… something. "Why would something like this come from the sky?"

Half of the metal beast was lodged in the riverbank, with enough rocks and dirt thrown around it to prove that it had crashed down hard. Colored a faint grey or white, the metal was drenched in soil.

"It almost looks like…" Serval started, squinting. The thing is, she had never seen _anything_ like it. There was nothing to compare it to.

She trailed off, wondering what this mess of metal even was.

With one hand on her chin and the other on her hip, she watched as a curious Otter started climbing the flattened top of the contraption.

Almost slipping off twice, the Otter was thrilled to have a smoother slide, even if she didn't really know what it was. Coming to the top, she laughed as she grabbed at one of two fins. Maybe with those fins, it was some sort of aquatic animal.

But then again, animals aren't made of metal.

Otter let go of the fin, letting herself slide down the length of the destroyed... thing.

 _If only Kaban were here_ , Serval thought, _if Kaban were here, she'd definitely know what this is._

* * *

"Next!"

The lunch lady behind the cafeteria counter called out at Kaban, who froze in place.

Her tray lie atop a countertop between her and the food area, where the lunch lady grimaced nervously at Kaban. The world looked, smelled, felt, sounded and thought so differently than Japari Park. The cafeteria overwhelmed her senses with all the noise of talking and intercom announcements, the almost infinite humans, the smell of cooking and the feeling of everything happening all at once. Here she was reduced to a sweating, frozen mess.

With her hat on her head, she didn't notice the taller men and women in line behind her began to get impatient. As the seconds ticked away, Kaban felt a tug on her shoulder.

"Number one, please."

A little human around her height cut in front of Kaban, holding out a tray. She spoke so confidently and with so much ease it almost scared the girl, who ended up following the other's example. As the first human stepped aside, waiting for Kaban, the girl in question glanced at the menu. Divided by three numbered choices, Kaban was more than happy that she could read.

"Umm…" Kaban looked up at the lady, then down at the glass that sat between her and a steaming pot of what looked like mashed potatoes. "I'll have the number two, please."

The lunch lady looked indifferent as she scooped up a glob of the yellowish white paste with a long metal ladle, plopping it down on Kaban's tray. Next she reached for a slice of meat and tucked it in what looked like a Japari bun, placing the completed item on her tray. Returning the tray to Kaban, the lady looked towards a man that was next in line.

"Next!"

Kaban shuffled towards the human who cut in front of her, who kept walking down the line. A cooler was tucked under the countertop, and the human reached a hand in and pulled out a red ball and a white jug.

"Take the apple, not the other crap they call fruit. That stuff is disgusting."

Kaban did as she was told, picking up a red fruit from the cooler and a bottle of white liquid. On the label it read 'MILK' in tall, bold lettering, and on the back there was a lot of statistics that were too much to read right now while she was in line.

"Come on, let's go."

The human anxiously waited for Kaban to follow, and as soon as Kaban started walking again, the human took off for a table out in the cafeteria.

The wide white room had a low ceiling, one that didn't bother any of the hundred or so people in the room but bothered Kaban, who was used to being under the open sky. With so much talking, laughing, and eating going on around her, Kaban felt lost and tiny, with only the kind human who had tugged on her earlier to guide her through this claustrophobic maze.

They finally stopped near the edge of the cafeteria, at an empty table. Sitting down, the human encouraged Kaban to do the same.

With a sigh, Kaban finally sat down and got a good look at the person.

With long hair wrapped in a ponytail and clad in a set of green, speckled clothes, she didn't stand out as much as Kaban did with her hat. A nametag on her chest read the word 'REBECCA' in big bold lettering, and Kaban felt out of place without one.

"So…" The girl, who Kaban assumed to be Rebecca, scooped a handful of mashed potatoes up with a spoon. "Who are you, FNG?"

"FNG?" Kaban asked, afraid that she said the wrong thing.

"Fucking new guy." Rebecca wolfed down the spoonful. "Civilians are supposed to live on the escort ships, not on the Carrier, so I assume you've just been transferred into service."

Bewildered by the information, Kaban felt too nervous to eat, opting to just gaze at the food on her tray.

"I'm… I'm sorry… I don't know what you mean." Kaban poked at the sandwich, feeling the bun to be tougher than she anticipated.

"By what?" Rebecca asked, her mouth full.

Thinking for a moment, Kaban did her best to shrug off the overwhelming feelings of everything that was going on in her life.

"I don't know what the Carrier is, or what you mean by service, and um…" Kaban grew embarrassed by how little she knew.

Scoffing, Rebecca bit into her apple.

"You're on our aircraft carrier right now, lady. Welcome aboard the flagship of humanity." Swallowing, Rebecca continued. "Our servicemen and women are what kept this fleet afloat for the last five years. Say…"

Rebecca paused, analyzing Kaban.

"You're from Japan or China, right? Did we pick you up when we last did a supply run?"

"Huh?" Kaban frowned, curious as to what a Japan was. "I'm… I'm not from either of those places. I'm…"

Pausing again, Kaban realized that saying anything too sketchy would warrant disbelief and even isolation from Rebecca, the only human who'd talked with her outside of a professional environment. She'd have to make something up.

"I woke up on the ship just the other day. I was unconscious, I think."

Rebecca slowly nodded, putting the core of her apple down on her tray.

"So… you have no idea about where you are and stuff?"

Kaban nodded in affirmation, biting into her own apple without a second thought. A wave of juices and sweetness flooded her taste buds as a completely new flavor overcame the girl. This… this was a fruit!

"Wow," Kaban paused to chew. "This tastes amazing!"

"You think?" Rebecca smirked. "I helped to pick those when we sailed down to New Zealand a week ago. It was my second time on the ground since the war, and-" She paused herself, pointing a finger at Kaban. "You been to the ground, right?"

"The ground?"

"Yeah. Like the real ground, where all the animals and plants are."

"Yes, yes I have."

Rebecca smiled, reminiscing. "I went down with the 2nd Marines in their helicopter to help pick the apples. It was a lot of fun, and it's so cool to get off the ship whenever you get a chance. You know, there's a huge difference between just going up top on the ship and actually getting your shoes dirty on land. You get what I mean?"

Kaban nodded, finishing her apple.

"The other fruit is synthetic." The girl sighed, taking a sip from her bottle of milk. "Same with the milk. It tastes kinda the same, but you can tell that it's different once you get a taste of the real stuff. Hey! Did you know that I had real milk down in New Zealand too?"

Kaban shook her head no, chewing a bite of her sandwich.

"Oh, that stuff is delicious. Much thicker than this crap, you know." She held out the milk bottle, waving it in front of Kaban. "It was so hard getting used to the artificial stuff after getting a taste of a real stuff. Something I know you've yet to experience. But don't worry! Now that you're on the carrier, I bet you get first dibs when joining the Marines when they head out to get supplies."

"Say," Rebecca spoke up before Kaban had a chance to speak. "I don't think I caught your name. Mine's Rebecca."

"Kaban." The girl nodded at Rebecca, who nodded in return.

"Respectable name. Sounds kinda Pacific-y, if you catch my drift." She grinned. "Get it? Pacific? Drift?"

Kaban faked a little laughter, which seemed to satisfy Rebecca.

" **Attention.** " The intercom inside the ceiling began announcing, but this time louder than before. " **Personnel with family in Marine units Fourteen, Twelve and Nine, please report to the Community Room for a brief meeting. I say again, Personnel with family in Marine units Fourteen, Twelve and Nine, please report to the Community Room. Thank you.** "

As the announcement concluded, Rebecca perked up. Standing up from the table, she gave Kaban a friendly, eager smile.

"My dad is in Marine Unit Nine, and I bet you didn't know this, but he told me that they're doing a landing on the Japari Islands. He said that when he comes back and makes it safe again, he might take me to the beach!"

Grinning with glee, Rebecca picked up her tray.

"You ever been to the beach, Kaban?"

Kaban shook her head no for the sake of listening as she chewed.

"Oh, it's amazing over by the waves. I just can't wait to see my dad again, you know? He's always busy, always doing training or something. Ever since mom died, my dad said he's going to take me out to do so many things." Reminiscing again, Rebecca smiled innocently. "Driving, real shopping, hiking… he said that I'm too young to do some hiking trails but we found some cool places in California that I can probably do. I mean, I bet I could, but-"

The intercom blared again, the voice of the announcer filling the room and cutting off all conversation. With the room silenced, Rebecca looked up at the speakers on the wall, then back down at Kaban. When the message ended, and activity returned to the cafeteria, she sighed.

"Well, I really ought to go. I wonder what adventures dad is going on right now…" Before she let herself get carried away, Kaban interjected.

"I hope to see you soon, Rebecca!"

With a wave from both parties, and a sigh from Kaban, the local human disappeared into the crowd of others.

The girl from Japari Park wondered when she'd ever see Rebecca again, and if she'd ever go to Japari Park again.

Marines, helicopters, hiking… Kaban finished her food in deep thought.

* * *

Buzzing.

Buzzing in my ears.

Buzzing in my eyes.

Buzzing in my skin, my hands, legs and feet.

Mosquitoes and bruises, that's what it was. Mosquitoes all over this hellhole of a jungle. At least, I thought it was a jungle. That's what it sounded like.

My eyes fluttered open inside of my flight helmet, a crack forming on the right side. Weightless, I swung my legs back and forth, up and down, left and right, and my groggy, spinning head deduced that I was weightless. Suspended in a web above the ground, one made by my own doing.

My eyes fully opened to the light of the early morning, and my arms, sore from a collision somewhere in my descent, struggled to reaching upwards, towards the upper parts of my parachute.

It must've deployed automatically somewhere in my descent, the chute extended when I got loose from my ejection seat somewhere along the line.

I reached upwards, arching my head around to catch a glimpse of the treetops where my chute was caught. There was no way I'd be able to untangle myself without climbing higher, and even if I tried to undo the straps on my chute, I'd fall a dozen feet.

The ground below seemed a mile away. Running water, sounding almost like a soft waterfall, was extremely close. Once I get out of here, there's a good chance I'll be able to drink relatively safely- running water is much safer to drink than still water.

But I'm thinking ahead of myself. I'm too stuck to be thinking that far ahead.

Fuck…

Among the chirping of jungle animals and rattle of insects, my right arm reached down past the map on my right thigh and towards my knife. Pulling it out of its sealed sheath, just an inch, I remember than I can simply unbuckle my straps if I really need to.

And I think I might really need to, even though I might break a bone in the fall.

I look down one more time, and that's when I heard it.

A rustling in the bushes, somewhere out in front of me.

Too noisy to be an animal, not when it's brushing as many branches as carelessly as whatever this thing might be.

A jet blue cerulean leapt from the thicket, weaseling its way around trees as it drew closer and closer to me. Shaped like an ugly dewdrop with legs, it's sole eye bore right into my own.

It knows I'm trapped, the bastard. It knows that I'll have to come down eventually, or it will be able to get up here to finish me off with time.

But that's not going to happen. That… that's not going to happen, right? Right?

My breathing grew labored, and the mask on my helmet was just getting in the way.

With a fast hand I undid the mask over my mouth and nose, letting my lower face open to the breath in the rainforest. It smells a lot damper than I anticipated, but I really hope that's not the last thing I'll be smelling before I die.

Fuck, I'd rather smell the crappy burgers they serve back in the mess hall. Those are awful to both taste and smell, but at least I'd be home.

I reached my hand to my hip, where my sidearm is. It's meant for emergencies like this one, in the event I ever get downed like the bitch I was.

Jeez… I unbuckle my holster and draw the weapon, letting it sit in both hands as I aim it down, down between my dangling legs.

The Cerulean has been watching me the whole time, the bastard. Almost with a sort of morbid curiosity, I keep my finger off the trigger, watching it.

I can kill it, sure, but what's wrong with observing it like this, watching it watch me?

It's crazy to think that these things have killed so many people like myself. And to be in a position where I can just dispose of it like an animal…

I blink, sliding my finger over the trigger.

Lining up the sights of my gun with the gemstone on its head, the squeeze of my finger elicits a blast that silences the entire jungle.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Seriously, the fact that you went out of your way and into a really inactive archive says something good. I do hope you stick around for the next chapter, my dude.**

 **Even if that might be a while. Unfortunately.**

 **EDITS/ERRORS**

 **\- General Quarters should have sounded earlier, due to the attack on the island, so the cafeteria scene would not have taken place.** **The Combined Fleet, consisting of a multinational group of ships, would all be in combat right now due to close proximity to the island.**

 **\- Pilots do not get knives like that.**


	3. Chapter 3

Glitter.

The word popped out of Kaban's mouth before she had a chance to form a solid thought. From the edge of a flat, metal bed, her eyes wandered over diagrams, notices, stocked shelves and interesting, however puzzling, readings atop a vital signs monitor. All things that a good clinical room would have, even in the middle of an ship.

Elizabeth, the doctor from earlier, repeated her question with a glare that demanded the younger human look her in the eye.

Glitter, Kaban affirmed with the slightest hint of hesitation, because that's what she felt most about Japari Park, and that's what made Elizabeth raise an eyebrow.

The doctor was supposed to be questioning the girl, but Kaban thought everything Elizabeth asked was far too silly to constitute anything legitimate.

For instance, ' _How do you feel about Japari Park?'_ totally came out of left field. Unlike what she saw with the Friends back on the island, this sort of conversation didn't feel right. To her, it didn't feel human. This was questioning, not talking.

Elizabeth continued, a pen whisking lines over a clipboard that Kaban thought to look too spotless.

 _What do you remember most about your time on the islands?_

Kaban answered honestly, seemingly incapable of holding back a fond smile as she remembered her adventure with Serval.

 _Serval? Who was Serval?_

Kaban clicked her heels together, lips pursed as she muttered the truth to another one of her own kind.

 _A Friend…_

Elizabeth muttered, jotting down something short before giving Kaban her full attention. The girl's mind wandered off to better times, times full of renewed expectation for humanity. Humans couldn't be all like this, Kaban whispered to herself, fighting what she kept seeing. There had to be fun somewhere here, genuine kindness somewhere within Elizabeth. Whatever she was doing right now didn't feel… real.

A spark, that's what they needed. A spark to reignite all the good that lie nestled inside even the smallest Friend and the tallest human.

Kaban's spark was Serval, that's what brought her to life. To have such a good friend around her must've been what helped Kaban to open up, herself.

But for Elizabeth?

Whatever that spark was, it would have to wait. Elizabeth repeated a question, yanking the younger girl out of her innocent reminiscing, riling up something about how long Kaban was on the island.

And of course Kaban would continue to reply, bubbly, hopeful and without the hint of a lie, from the bottom of her heart.

* * *

" _Captain, XO, debrief in the meeting room four in ten mikes._ "

"Really? That was fast. Be there in a minute, thank you for the heads-up."

The phone clicked down on his desk, and there was silence.

Captain Thomas Henry never found himself receiving after-action reports as of late, and he found it unfortunate that the first one in years would come back alongside a casualty report.

From his office within the bowels of the carrier, the Captain strode past the Combat Information Center with a facade of confidence, receiving and returning salutes from a band of plucky marines on his way. His rank still stood for something, even when the nation they pledged to protect no longer existed.

Thomas flinched, ducking through a doorway. He hated thinking back. He hated thinking of what could've been. He hated everything - at least, that's what he kept on feeling, even though he knew, rationally, that couldn't be true.

He was lucky to be aboard his ship, the USS Springfield, when it all started. Conflicting reports from Pearl Harbor, the Pentagon, San Diego… all he could remember was panic in the mess hall and the need for answers. Everyone needed answers. They weren't at EMCOM and cell phones had been buzzing throughout the first night, phone calls from home and the terror of knowing you can do nothing but listen to the pain of the ones you love.

They were under attack. The world, on shore, ravaged by creatures like zombies - that was all they knew. And yet here they were safe onboard the ship, sitting with their hands between their legs as the people they knew and the friends they had, on land, suffered the most.

Thomas could remember faces, family, neighbors and his wife's coworkers that would come down while he was on leave, the people who would keep mentioning how they heard so much about him and, with some awkwardness, how they thought his wife was a sweet girl. Her name was Caroline, but that was in the past now. Forgetting proved hard.

They hadn't talked for over a month by then, and Thomas knowingly missed every opportunity to call her. He told himself it wasn't jealousy. At the end of that first day, when the cell towers were still working, he had been leaning on the starboard rail of the USS Springfield, eyes on the sunset-sprinkled waves, quivering as his phone buzzed. That was the last time she ever tried to call him.

* * *

"Captain on deck!"

Chairs rattled through the meeting room as Captain Thomas Henry marched through the door. The massive oval table bore a plethora of papers, colors, photographs and electronic devices. At the opposite wall of the room, Thomas was intrigued by several diagrams sprawled across a mounted flatscreen. A dozen men paraded out of their chairs in near-unison before Thomas waved them down.

"As you were."

He wasn't in the mood for formalities. Thomas was absent from the CIC an hour ago, when the incursion was taking place, but the pain on the enlisted and commissioned alike told him something went wrong.

With the Captain's word, men and women returned to the table. He, too, slid into his assigned seat.

"Thanks for waiting for me." He sighed, reluctant to hear the news. "What's the situation?"

The XO of the USS Carl Vinson, a stolid man who thought himself better than Thomas, dutifully adjusted his collar. The blue digital suited both his bulky form and his hoarse voice, stern and authoritative.

"Captain, if you're so inclined to know," the Executive Officer growled, eyes locked on Tom. "We're down four birds. Three Seahawks and a Hornet, and for all we know their crews are already in hell. This was a fucking disaster."

"What the XO means to say, sir," the CIC Evaluator spoke up. He was leading in the Ops Room when it all went down, and also known to his peers as the TAO: Tactical Action Officer. "Marine Units fourteen, twelve and nine have been lost along with their transport. ELINT reports indicate there was an S-300 type missile battery between reference points eight and nine, subsequently neutralized by Enfield flight."

"Chinks." The XO snarled. The S-300 'Gargoyle' was an advanced Chinese air defense weapon, something that shouldn't have been on the island to begin with.

Ignoring the second in command, the CIC Evaluator pointed at the screen behind him, arching his back to get a clear view.

"We believe that incursion teams fourteen and nine never made it to land, and visual confirmation from JS Samidare indicates that only Marine Unit twelve managed to get to solid ground."

"They're dead, Tom." The XO grimaced, folding his hands together. "They're fucking dead."

"We don't know that for sure." The Evaluator elaborated. "Look. There's a hostile presence within the Japaris. This is the first contact we've had in months, minus the Chinese off Fiji."

"So what do you expect us to do, send more of my boys to their deaths?"

The room swelled in silence. The XO of the Carl Vinson was also in charge of the fifteen Marine units onboard, and it was obvious he was fiercely protective of his men.

"No." Firm, the TAO grimaced at the thought. "We've suffered enough here. I understand the loss of life will be… hard to pass onto the families."

The Captain averted his gaze. He wasn't in charge of that, and couldn't possibly understand how that would be. A loss of life was always difficult to manage in the fleet, especially military, when news and morale would tear through the ships without mercy.

"I say we forget it. Cut our losses and head home."

Thomas couldn't remember the last time the XO suggested they just give up like that. Returning to a refuge like Guam or Okinawa would be irresponsible. That kind of move would be a waste of life, an implication that our people were dispensable. Their objective was to find out the source of the Ceruleans, to investigate the mysterious signal, to see if the beasts had a weakness. To be so close now, after the grueling years since the end of the world… giving up was wrong.

Thomas was about to speak up when the TAO waved him down, letting the XO speak.

"From a tactical perspective, there's no way we can go in there. We have no idea what we're up against, and there's no way for us to get information on anything on the island. Going in without intel is suicide, plain and simple. To deploy RHIBS and ground teams by those kinds of smaller boats means we'll have to get real close." The XO took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. "Aaaaaand boom. Anti-ship missiles and a thousand dead men."

The head of the CIC rubbed his chin. Weighing his options was simple. The possibility of more losses was a risk he wasn't willing to take, especially with the lack of resources they had. Clearing his throat, the man sighed as the Captain was about to make his case.

"I'm sorry Thomas. We can't gamble lives for chances."

His mouth was left open, cut off as easily as the marines that were cut down. Although the facts were plain and simple, deep down, something tugged at the Captain's heart. It was the lives lost in vain, the possibility of survivors, the signal from the island, the obvious fact that on the Japaris there was something to hide, and the finding of that girl… Kaban, he remembered.

There were people there for sure. Maybe the Chinese…

Thomas stood up, pushing out his chair.

"The USS Springfield is regrouping with fleet tonight, and as her captain, I'm sticking around here." His choice was clear, receiving stares from around the room. "You should understand what is so important about these islands."

"Captain Henry, I-"

"I do agree with what you said, Calvin." Firm and concise, Thomas addressed the XO by his first name, showing how personal this was to him. "We can't be wasting lives, and it's a huge risk to be here. But if we leave a small presence in the area, we can still get things done. You know this is more than just a gamble. There's something here."

Taking a deep breath, the Captain continued. "I just need a ship and some good men. And for intel… we… we have that girl."

The Evaluator nodded with a degree of reluctance, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. There was Kaban, and although she came from the island, there had to be a limit to how much she knew or would be willing to share. As the girl was still very new to the fleet, they didn't know much of anything about her, either. Would she even want to cooperate?

"You're risking one of the last operational ships in the world for a rock that doesn't want us on it." The second in command tugged at his collar, uneasy with the proposal. "I'll have to bring this up with the Admiral. You do understand that I'm not a fan of this - too many unknowns."

Captain Thomas Henry lowered his head, but only for a moment. His thoughts wandered from his family of the past to the mission in the present, from the dead to the possible losses. The rewards of this, to be a formal combat operation with known enemies, could be slim… but they might also be a million times more beneficial than anyone's wildest dreams.

"And with that settled, now," another officer spoke up. "We still need to review the AAR, dwindling rations, and understanding that the Australians are insisting on course change for the fleet as of the beginning of the meeting… they want us to get out of here."

With hushed stares, the XO broke the silence by knocking on the table with his knuckles.

"So? Let's get to work."

* * *

Survival, evasion, resistance and escape.

Every airman was trained to in these skills to the best of their abilities, abbreviated as SERE, in the event they were shot down or at risk of capture.

In Jack O'Brien's case, all those factors had to be put into consideration. There was an enemy on this island, someone out there looking to do him harm.

They must've seen his parachute deploy, and would certainly be looking for him around the wreck. Thing is, he didn't exactly know where he was, where his plane crashed, or who was out for his blood.

Propped up against a tree, his feet sagged into the musky jungle floor as shadows shrouded the mass of nature around him.

Insects buzzing behind his ears, leaves shifting between vines, the gurgling of running water and the flavor of moving mist… Jack had never been in a jungle before, and it was difficult to hide the fact that he was unnerved.

Looking up at the canopy, pockets of light shimmied between the green, briefly and sporadically flashing his snagged parachute, torn and tangled to bits. He fell a long way down, and he was sure he injured his knees really, really bad. The adrenaline in his system kept him standing, but only in name.

Forced to grit his teeth just to keep his legs bent, Jack massaged himself with a free hand - it was too painful to stand upright without support.

His gunshot, a clean kill on the cerulean, must've been a beacon to anyone or anything in the area, and those things would surely be looking for him.

That was bad to say the least, while a death sentence would be an understatement. He needed to find rescue, but getting out of the area with legs like this was going to be next to impossible.

If he couldn't run from the area…

Jack stifled a groan by biting the inside of his cheek, his head on a swivel. A raging headache, probably the result of a concussion, stung at his whole body as he tried to think. Aligned with the best of his heart, adrenaline fueled his thought process as a primitive desire to live overtook him.

His flight suit wasn't exactly jungle green, and he would have some trouble bending into the bushes if he were to hide, but the mud… the pilot struggled towards a fallen log and curled up beside it, muttering obscenities as his knees bit back.

The pilot pulled off his whole helmet, visor, mask and all, hiding it behind him as he tucked behind some vegetation.

Moss, mushrooms, rotting leaves, and spiders snuggled up to Jack as he pulled mucky material out from under him and over the shiny bits on his uniform. To dull his face, Jack grimaced and smeared mud over his cheeks, under his eyes, around his forehead and over his eyelids.

He wasn't as concealed as he would want, but he had a good view of the area under his parachute. The leaves of nearby bushes covered most of his lower body, which was already well hidden through the digging.

He hoped his body would blend well with the shadows and the log, but only time would tell if he'd remain safe or not.

* * *

"We must be getting close by now."

Serval proclaimed, paving a path through the trees. They had heard a suspiciously loud clap, like the sound of a twig snapping but a lot, lot bigger.

"You think so? I don't know…" Otter trailed close behind the feline, curiosity compelling her to peek over Serval's shoulder at every opportunity. "You know, this doesn't seem all that fun…"

"Relax! There's nothing to be afraid of!" Serval chirped, taking wide strides around a puddle. "If anything, we might find a new Friend. I bet their special talent is making loud noises, scary ones, the kind of noises that keep ceruleans away!"

"Maybe," Otter brightened up, straightening her posture. "Maybe they have snacks!"

"May~be!" Serval grinned, pushing aside a bushel of leaves. Her soles weren't used to the jungle floor, and it slowly but surely became tiring to slog through the damp ground. It wasn't long before she even got tired of hearing the sound of her own walking, but there was no way she would let that show. After all, Otter needed a good role model. Someone with confidence.

Serval didn't want to admit that a sound like that wasn't really natural. As they ventured deeper and deeper into the green maze, the more and more Serval's mind drifted into realms of uncertainty.

The Savanna Cat paused beside a fallen log.

Something wasn't right.

Something… something was wrong.

"Are we there yet?" Otter mused, fingers intertwined with a hint of fear.

"One moment…" Serval returned, sharp eyes surveying the trees. She could smell something. Something faint, like the scent of a Lucky Beast but a lot less, err, firm. Less artificial, and more like Alpaca's cafe.

More like Kaban.

"What's the matter?" Otter insisted, her body tightening up as she, herself felt that this was the least fun she's had all day. "Is something… is someone there?"

"No, I just think I…"

Serval stopped. There was more than just a smell. There was noise. Footsteps, like a Friend's, but louder. Louder and not nearly as subtle as anyone who made the Jungle Area their home. In an instant, Serval's mind raced to conclusions and her heart began running in overdrive.

With widening eyes, she clasped tight on Otter's hips.

"Hey-"

Before the aquatic Friend could finish her sentence, Serval leapt as high as she could, soaring as high into the treetops as her legs would take her. Completing her ascent by grappling up the trunk with a claw, Serval hoisted a squeamish Otter with ease.

Throwing herself onto the branch in less than a second, she had hardly begun panting when Otter, understandably freaking out, tried to say something.

"Q-quiet now!" Serval hushed, placing a finger over Otter's lips. Taking a moment to herself, Otter reluctantly nodded.

Looking down, Serval noted that the footsteps had gotten much louder. Now that they were close, the feline could easily discern multiple sets of feet - at least four. The source had to be nearly upon them.

Their tree gave them a clean view of a narrow clearing in the trees. With the fallen log almost directly below them, and vegetation all around, Serval was confident that she would see any incoming being before it saw them.

Otter raised a hand, almost shaking now, pointing higher up into the canopy. There, a short distance away, a strange, metal chair sat suspended by several ropes and a big, wide… blanket? Raising an eyebrow, Serval wondered what a chair was doing so high above the ground, but only for a second.

Six figures emerged from the trees. Six figures, people like Friends, but taller, began flooding into the clearing.

They looked similar to Kaban in clothing, except they were green. Green, brown and even a bit of tan with a strange pattern to it, like squiggles, lots and lots of weird squiggles. Long green pants with little bags on the sides, heavy green shirts with fat plates on the front and back, almost like flat pillows, and a round bucket on each one of their heads.

They held strange looking sticks, too. Metal sticks, like a pen, but with a much, much funnier design. Why would they be carrying such dumb things?

"Are they new Friends?" Otter whispered, getting excited. "They have to be. Look at them!"

The green-clad figures chat to one another using lots of complicated words Serval couldn't understand. A different accent, perhaps. That didn't really bother the two girls as they looked down, watching the six meander about the clearing as if they had lost something. Maybe they needed help looking for something they forgot.

"They do look like Friends… so why haven't we met them before?" Serval's worry slowly melted away as she bent her knees, ready to pounce down to the ground. If they haven't been introduced yet, then Serval would have to be the one to fix that.

Before she could slip down, one of the green people shouted.

More, more, and more shouting erupted as something moved, panicked, from under the log down below. After more frenzied shouting, some of them began playing with the Friend under the log. They made an effort to jump over the new Friend as they tried to escape, almost as if they were all playing a fun game of hide and seek.

But… they were playing so roughly, and… and all those people were playing without Serval and Otter! That was just plain mean, not inviting others to play with them. Even if they were new to the jungle, it was polite to ask everyone they could find if they wanted to join in - that was just common courtesy.

Serval had just about had enough of their rudeness when one of the green people smashed the new Friend's head in with their stick.

Blood splattered out onto the jungle floor as the new Friend's face landed in the muck.

Serval's jaw hung wide open as she looked on in debilitating horror.

The person who hit the other arched their stick up again, and Serval saw how determined the person was. Their arms tense, legs firm, shoulders raised and lungs full of air - they were going to hit that person again.

A hand by another person intercepted the stick halfway down, halting the blow before it struck.

"No need to do anythin' stupid. You know we bring 'em alive, if anything." The one who intervened lowered his arms, as did the striker. "Can't be messing with the environment, now. A dead body would be one hell of a cleanup."

"Back again, back again." A third groans, soliciting a nudge from one of their peers. "Hey! Let's just get back before something goes wrong... like in those shitty movies you keep rewatching."

The nudger scowled, but knew that their task comes first. Going back to whatever that was, was their priority, it seemed.

Two of them picked up the fallen… Friend? Whoever they were, they begin returning the way they came as softly as they entered. No looking back, no funny business. They got what they came for, and it didn't look like they were in the mood for meeting new Friends. Not at all.

Just as the last one of them left the treeline, Otter gave Serval a funny look.

"What was that about?"

"I… I don't know…" Serval whispered, feeling downcast for the first time in a long, long time. "It wasn't good, that's for sure."

"They were hurting that person, and took them away." Otter concluded. "Serval… I'm…"

The Savanna Cat could see how scared Otter was. Her hands, trembling on her knees, painted a grim picture with her face colored with uncertainty. Serval did a good job hiding the fact that she felt the same way, but facing this kind of danger was something new. Ceruleans were scary, sure, but they never got her in the same way these people did.

Not nearly in the same way those people took that other person.

"Serval… can you bring me down? I just... want to go home…"

With a nod, the feline complied, landing the two of them safely down with a thump.

"You head back, okay?" Serval did her best to reassure the girl. "I need to check up on things. Okay? I'll be back by tonight."

"You aren't going to go chasing those people, right Serval?"

Hesitating to respond, Serval's nonanswer was enough of an answer for Otter.

"Gosh…" She turned away for a moment, then looked back at Serval. Worry eluded her best intentions, seeping into her words. "Just stay safe, okay? I'm… I'm going to let Jaguar know you're going out there."

Serval was okay with that, although she really didn't want more Friends to be so concerned. Deep down, her heart pulled at the desire for only the best for everyone in her life, be it Otter or even a complete stranger. And to see a stranger be taken so suddenly and violently… it was wrong. Serval wouldn't dare stand by while so wrong was happening.

"Everything is going to be just fine! No need to worry!"

With a glimmer in her eye, Serval held her chest up high. That radiating confidence was contagious, and Otter could swear that everything really was going to be just fine.

And in that moment, everything had to be just fine. Serval was right, as she usually was. In the end, everything did turn out just fine. Things always did. They always had to.

Otter kept telling herself that everything would be just fine as Serval disappeared into the jungle, into the leaves, into the mist.

* * *

"Are… are we even allowed to be here here?"

Kaban twiddled her thumbs with her head hung low, sitting inconspicuously beside Rebecca in the corner of the room. This was the Combat Information Center onboard the USS Springfield, a small, dark yet elaborately crowded window into the inner workings of the entire beast of a machine. A clockwork of officers, operators and specialists glared into an organized chaos of dazzling monitors that lined the walls, headphones and microphones squawking sonar readings, navigational data, and commands that Kaban couldn't even begin to understand.

"We're fine." Rebecca, Kaban's only real acquaintance onboard the vessel, grunted. Sullen and sulking, the human from Japari Park knew her friend wasn't in the mood to talk. "No one cares as long as we don't get in the way. "

"Mhm…"

Kaban looked up at the ship's CIC Evaluator, a sharp, sassy woman with a demeanor built to lead under stress. Donning the classic blue digital uniform and a headset that looked a little too small for her, the Evaluator finished a conversation with the Chief Engineer.

Kaban could hardly make out the faint letters on her TAO nametag. Tactical Actions Officer Halsey, head honcho of the CIC. A simple name, more or less, one that the girl thought rolled off the tongue far better than other names she knew, such as tsuchinoko.

Kaban took in deep breaths, trying to imagine herself in the very middle of a large ship the size of the Springfield. To be here, practically alone… she sure felt lonely without the friends she made, especially Serval, but there was Rebecca.

She was just transferred to Marine Unit One, the platoon-sized task force assigned to the USS Springfield. Orders directly from the Admiral, it seemed, who was keen on getting to the bottom of the Japaris, against the judgement of his fellow officers.

Kaban wondered how that girl was doing, admiring the navy girl's hair that had been tied neatly in a ponytail. Rebecca was still staring straight ahead, eyes fixated on something that didn't physically exist. Kaban had seen this look once before, in the fascination the Librarian Owls displayed for her cooking.

It was that kind of intensity that drove Kaban to think of all the possible things on the mind of her new friend. They didn't exactly know each other very well, and it might seem strange to ask Rebecca what was wrong, so Kaban silently toyed with the idea in her mind.

Her imagination wandered from Rebecca to Elizabeth, the doctor that stayed behind on the aircraft carrier, drifting further and further away. Kaban imagined Captain Thomas, the man that was supposed to be in charge of this ship. He said he was in the 'Bridge,' wherever that was.

"Ma'am. Something's-" On Kaban's left, an officer in uniform had pulled half their headset off, trying to hail TAO Halsey. A sudden flash of red on his screen stole his attention, cutting him off mid-sentence, and in just an instant he had snapped back to his station.

"TAO! Fuck, _**vampire, vampire, vampire**_!" The officer shouted at the top of his lungs, alerting the whole crew to a vampire - the term for a hostile missile. "Fox three inbound bearing two-five-seven, correction, two vampires approaching bearing two-five-eight!"

Halsey stomped towards the officer's station, analyzing with the eyes of an eagle as she saw lights flash red throughout the CIC. Frenzied chatter broke out among the crew as a shrill tone barraged the ship.

" **General quarters, general quarters. All hands man your battle stations!"** The intercom pounded throughout the entire vessel, Captain Thomas Henry sounding off from the Bridge.

Kaban and Rebecca sank into their seats, watching helplessly as the CIC leapt to do their duty.

TAO Halsey's pupils reflected blinking red circles representing missiles, each skimming the waves over from Kyōshū and towards the USS Springfield. As the fleet was too far away to assist, she had to make decisions here and now.

"Kill track zero-eight-four-five with birds." She announced, voice cool as sweat snaked past her brow. They had to hit the incoming missiles with intercepting missiles, or else a single hit would devastate the entire ship.

"Kill track zero-eight-four-five, aye." An officer responded down the line, flicking switches and tapping at their monitor.

"Target acquired, break," a third officer proclaimed, a firing solution appearing in the corner of each screen. "Ready to fire!"

"Fire!" Halsey demanded, knuckles white.

The man in front of Halsey smashed a button on the panel in front of him, and a rumble resonated through the entire ship.

"Missile cleared!" He returned, jaw clenched. A blue dot on the screen emerged from a blue hexagon in the center, representing the Springfield.

"Missile, 3,000, bird is hot."

As the first missile neared it's designated target, another two drew closer on screen. It was only a matter of seconds before they would be in visual range, and by then, it would be far too late to intercept them.

"Kill vampires two and three with birds." Haley ordered, her words relaying down the entire CIC.

"TAO! Bird connected, vampire one, confirmed kill." A woman sitting behind Halsey exclaimed, not taking a moment to breathe.

More and more orders were dispatched, snappy and concise. Two more missiles reverberated the vessel, deploying a fat plume of smoke as they rose into the heavens.

"Vampire three confirmed kill, oh god…"

"What?" Halsey scowled, narrowing her eyes at the screen. The monitor told her the news that send a stone down her stomach. The second missile was too fast, and it's intercepting missile missed it completely.

"Okay. Okay!" Halsey, as the ship's CIC Evaluator, had little faith in the point defenses to destroy the incoming projectile. Reaching to cup her microphone, Halsey wasted no time clearing her throat, knowing deep down there was not much that could be done. "Launch chaff-"

" **All personnel,** " Captain Thomas's crippling voice bellowed over the intercom, crunching daggers through the hearts of everyone onboard.

Rebecca's mind buckled under the stress, breaking into tears as she thrusted herself into Kaban's arms.

" **Brace for impact!** "

* * *

 **Words cannot describe how eager I've been to get back to writing this story. due to school and work, I haven't really had a chance to really get at it, but luckily those roadblocks have finally been squashed.**

 **I check out every one of your reviews, and I'm elated to see people checking this out. seriously, it's so nice knowing people are out there in this inactive archive and all.**

 **Again, thanks for reading - hope to see you sooner than last time!**

 **EDITS/ERRORS**

 **\- In real life, the USS Springfield would have been more than capable of shooting down all incoming vampires.**

 **\- The S-300 was originally designed and mainly used by the Russian military, and should have been identified to be Russian in any other circumstance. In the Pacific, it can be safely assumed it is Chinese.**


	4. Chapter 4

Things were good, things were fine, and everything was going exactly as she predicted. At least, that's what Serval thought to herself as she tensed her legs for yet another pounce.

The Savanna cat leapt from one branch to the next, following close behind the mysterious green Friends that threatened to whisk away, just as silent as they came, deeper and deeper into the jungle.

Wind whistled past her long golden ears as she darted between trees, vines and leaves, the whispers of the river mist fading further and further behind her.

Serval figured that, by jumping from tree to tree, she would stay out of sight and keep contact on the others, which got harder and harder the deeper into the jungle they got. It seemed as though they were heading inland, far beyond the Savanna and along the river. Serval knew there was nothing exciting there. There weren't many Friends there either. But maybe… maybe that was it! Maybe those Friends just wanted another person to play with. That must be it.

 _Their territory must get lonely because they are violent._

Something must've gone wrong, Serval thought, noticing a sharp, feathered rod lodged deep in her thigh. In that instant, Serval buckled, losing her grip on the tree trunk and nearly slipped off the bark. For some reason, she wondered how much it might hurt if she fell all the way down to the jungle floor.

Uttering incoherent whispers, Serval found her knees quivering, head pulsating, and mind fading with a most unwelcome and abrupt migraine.

There were voices, that's for sure. Hushed, brittle voices... but they had to be shouts. Words became mushed with her mind beginning to play tricks on her. Her mind beginning to whistle, wave, wag and wander, move, meander, flop and flail.

Eyelids heavy, legs like honey, arms with the weight of tree trunks...

Serval faded, ever so slowly, into an inevitable darkness as her grip on the branch melted. It was only a matter of seconds before her whole body slipped into the void.

* * *

"My name is Jack O'brien."

Pupils adjusting to light, Jack began to recite all he was required to provide. His captors, whoever they were, had dragged him into what might just be the middle of nowhere. They made it very clear that they wanted something, but from where he was, he had no idea what.

"Lieutenant. Zero one zero, two nine three, eight seven four, zero one."

Jack's words had an edge to them. His Department of Defense issued identification number, plus his rank, was all that he had to say in accordance with the Geneva Convention. He hoped his facade of professionalism would hold.

The air was moist, cool on the skin. The walls stood stained with wear and what might be black mold. The all-consuming darkness was interrupted by the light under the room's sole door, along with a murky lamp mounted up on the wall. With that, he concluded he must be located in some sort of neglected storage room.

With arms bound to a metal shelf and legs too exhausted to move, saying he was in a bad position was an understatement.

"You hear this guy?"

There were two men in the room with him. One was tall, muscular, and bore a deep southern drawl. An American. Donning cheap camouflage pants and a t-shirt, he looked as though he wanted to be intimidating, but the only part of him that concerned Jack was his holster.

"Yes, yes I do." The second man spoke with crossed arms. He was lean and wore round glasses. Embedded in his voice was an accent matching near-precisely that of the Japanese sailors Jack had met back on the USS Carl Vinson. "He must be thinking of the Geneva Convention."

The southern man smirked, kneeling to meet Jack's eyes.

"You can talk normally, y'know. Geneva... ain't what it used to be."

The Japanese man chuckled, reminiscing. Jack read their words, hearing how they thought they could throw away their humanity, their morals, just because no one was going to stop them. He wanted to shout, to yell, to tell them they were wrong. They were wrong. They had to be wrong. Right?

"It's funny to think things could ever go back to normal." The one with the glasses murmured. "I pity this one."

"I don' blame him. And you, you shouldn't blame 'em, either." The man with the pistol rose back to his feet, glaring at Jack with what could've been mistaken for sympathy. "God knows how long I'd hoped to go home. And hell, Dawkins still thinks we're doing good here."

"Fuck Dawkins." The other man spat. "But we've already discussed this."

"Yeah. But our new friend here don't. Might as well humor 'em."

The Japanese man cleared his throat, gesturing behind himself with a thumb. "Dawkins is the Park idiot. Don't look at him too long or he'll try talking to you about something stupid, like the Lucky Beasts or…"

"Or constellations." The southern man finished. "He's got his head in them clouds like 'e thinks 'e matters." Turning, he smacked the door with his elbow. "Hear 'at, Dawkins? Fuck you!"

"Fuck you, Frank!" Came the reply, muffled by the door. Jack looked at the light under the door, which shifted around - that Dawkins person must be on the other side.

Embraced by a brazen smirk, the two men stifled laughs.

"Anyways, we will keep things simple." The Japanese man ran a hand through his hair, analyzing the downed pilot as if he were some sort of prize. "We need to know who you have out on the waters, and why you're here."

"Oh," The southern man, Frank, piped up. "Don't say none of 'em lies to us, either. We know when you're lying."

The Japanese one held a hand to his mouth, chest heaving and eyes narrow. Was he laughing? What's so funny?

"Yes." He started. "We know everything."

"Everything… and nothing…" Frank wrought out jazz hands, divulging into an atmosphere of mystique. "For to… what, we gotta… what is it…"

"To do that one thing, you must first create the universe." Dawkins barked, smacking the door with something metal. "Are… are you guys mocking me in there?"

"Yeah." Frank blurted, shameless.

"Fuck you guys! You're supposed to be interrogating, not entertaining." Dawkins' voice pitched - he must be getting really upset. "Really, you dipshits never get anything done! I'm going to get in there and like, uh, shoot you!"

Frank and the Japanese man burst into tears, clutching their chests and wailing out to their heart's content. Dawkins continued to threaten the two with a bullet to the brain but that didn't stop the bawling one bit.

The one with the glasses slowly but surely regained his senses, eyes tinted red from laughter. With a great big smile, he turned to Jack.

"Ah, sorry about that. You see, Dawkins is one of the researchers here. Not an ounce of… fight in him." He flexed for emphasis.

"Yup." Frank agreed, hand on his holster. "Heh, yeah. Lil' pansy."

The two pseudo-interrogators bore wild grins, and although they didn't want these good times to come to an end, they knew they would have to turn back to their captive. Jack could tell that they really didn't care about him, that they would much rather go back to bickering and laughing and having a wonderful rest of their lives - but Jack was here.

They looked on him as though he was a chore to attend to. A dirty plate, a crying baby, a task at hand. A problem. But not an enemy. That distinction in their eyes was vital, and something Jack needed to exploit.

Before Frank could get another word out, a yelp scratched at the other end of the door.

"Hey!" Dawkins cried out with urgency. "We got ourselves a situation over here!"

"...What?" The shuffling of boots drawing closer stifled Frank's reply. As the boots reached the door, it swung open with a thunderous creak.

Light swarmed Jack's eyes as he struggled to adjust to the brightness. In that period of brief blindness, a heavy thud smacked down to the floor at his side, and the guards were ushered outside with the cue of Dawkins' calls. In under five seconds, the door slammed back to a close. In under five seconds, Jack was alone.

People shouting, muffled yells, boots stomping and words thrown.

The pilot couldn't make out exactly what was being said, but he heard voices that weren't from his captors. These were different people, and they certainly were not happy with his captors.

"You did a fuck up!"

"Sloppy job..."

"Not my fault..."

Amid the verbal war, it took another moment for Jack to readjust back to the darkness. Blinking once, twice, he gazed towards the source of the thud from earlier. Something was dropped, that was for sure. But what?

To Jack's right, flopped haphazardly on the ground, was… a person?

A very yellow person, that was for sure. They wore a long, spotted yellow skirt, with spotted yellow leggings as well. Accompanied with… wait. Jack's eyes widened as soon as he found a tail. And ears. Not normal ears - those wouldn't be concerning. Not nearly as concerning as the fact that there were massive, furry ears atop her head. They looked ridiculous!

First, Jack didn't know what to think. His senses had been overloaded with the fact that he had been taken prisoner, tied down against his will. With that fear factor involved, it was difficult for him to think coherently and keep his heart rate down, keep his cool.

Second, he didn't know who his captors were. Park researchers, one of them mentioned? There was something going on outside the room, something involving other people that were not associated with his captors. That was for sure. The unknown variables, coupled with the jarring situation, made his whole head run into overdrive.

But on top of all that… someone new had entered the arena. A person who was very much, very obviously, not a person. And a person not being a person was something Jack O'brien was very much concerned about. Was he thinking straight? Was Jack going insane, had he been injected with crazy juice?

He shuddered, narrowing his pupils as the figure twitched.

Rising, slowly at first, then with sharp movements in the arms and legs, the person groggily sat upright. Jack watched with trepidation as the creature raised a hand to rub its eyes, slowly at first, then moving normally as its body adjusted to its location.

Sitting in silence, its ears twitched when a shout erupted outside. Shrinking back, the figure scooted towards Jack, arms pressing off the ground in hopes of moving faster. Did it not notice him?

"Hey…" Jack muttered, slow and steady, unsure of what to say.

The person obviously heard him, piquing its ears and releasing a sudden, yet shallow sound, almost like a cat's call. Swiveling to face Jack, she near-instantly got to scanning him from the soles of his feet to the tip of his head.

"You smell different!" She exclaimed, demonstrating a powerful, coherent ability for speech.

"I smell different?" Jack raised an eyebrow, eyes flashing between the girl's and the door, which, as a bulwark from the verbal storm, might as well be rattling on its hinges.

"Yeah." She nodded, tilting her head. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, not… not really." The pilot wanted to burst out laughing, but his throat was too dry to even croak. "But I genuinely don't know if you were from a secret underground bunker or not, so I can't say the same to you."

"No, I'm not really from around here, either. But this place is cool too!"

She looked up, down, and rose to her feet with a curious gaze that scrutinized the dreary lamp as if it were a puzzle.

"Wow!" The girl exclaimed, pawing at the lamp on the wall. "This thing is like a little fire, just look at it!"

"Y-yeah…" Jack's stomach started to sink as he watched her. Struggling with his bound hands, he grimaced.

"Hmm, you look stuck." She stepped over him, squinting at his binds. "How did you get stuck?"

"I'm… you're…" For a moment, his eye twitched. "Are you like, half baked or something?"

"Half baked? What's baked?" She knelt down as a thump was heard on the other end of the door. After taking a glimpse of the door to ensure she was still fairly safe, she gave Jack her full attention.

"It… it doesn't matter. Look," He arched his head towards his hands. "Can you find a way to cut me loose?"

"Cut you loose? Well, I guess I can." With a single stroke of the wrist, she slashed the binding effortlessly… with her fingernails? No… that doesn't make sense. Everything doesn't make sense. "Now, can you tell me why you got stuck in the first place?"

Jack grumbled something about how confusing everything was as he struggled to his feet. Stretching his arms and rubbing his sore wrists, he sighed.

"To be honest, I think you're asking the wrong questions here."

"Eh?" She frowned, deciding to stick a finger right at his face. "You must be an animal that doesn't like answering questions! Or… answering questions really vaguely and being all weird!"

"An animal?" Jack whispered, eyebrows furrowed. "Wait…"

"Mya! I forgot to say, I am Serval!" She stood up, back straight and bold. "And you are?"

Unsure of what to say, Jack stumbled through his words. "I, uh… you can call me Home."

"Home? That's a weird name."

"I guess it is." Jack nodded, eyes tracking the door. "And hey, I wish we could chat all day, Serval, but you and I are both stuck here and I'm not sure if that's a good thing. One second."

Jack turned to the door, unsure of how to feel.

Of course he knew he wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible, escape into the jungle, return to safety… it's this new person, someone who considered themself to be partly animal, that worried him. She didn't seem to know what lights were or even interpret that he was being held captive. On top of all that, she didn't seem to mind or even consider that she was also being held captive. He had to work with her to get her out as well, partially to question her but also to ensure that these captors have no hostages. Oblivious hostages, to boot.

"Hmm... when you put it that way, we are stuck here... But I'm sure they'll let us out if we just ask!" Serval set forth a reassuring smile, but Jack wasn't buying it.

"Stop talking." Jack stated, placing his ear against the door.

"H-hey! That… that wasn't nice of you to say…"

Grimacing again, he clenched his teeth to listen to what was going on outside.

"Fine." Someone huffed, probably the Frank person. It sounded like the overall aggression had toned down. "It's on us."

"Yes. Your failure to stay concealed cost you your own initiative." Someone else, someone new, proclaimed. Laden with a firm asian accent, Korean or Chinese, they sounded like they meant business. "If we hadn't secured this one, do you know what could have happened? No. You don't."

"Shut it! It was an honest mistake, and you were the ones who-" Dawkins was cut off by someone else, who must've had to hold him back.

"We have what we came for, and our matters are settled." The unknown newcomer stated. "We will be taking what's ours, and you can keep your shitty park."

"What ab-"

A crash pounded Jack's ears. Less of a crash, however. It sounded like a bolt cycling, a muffled bang... he recognized it instantly as a suppressed gunshot - heavier than a pistol, but certainly not a rifle he could recognize.

"The f-fuck was that for!?" Frank shrieked, only to meet another round. And another.

Three bullets expended, three shells pinging against the ground, and with an unfathomable silence, the slumps of sound against the floor must have been the guards.

As soon as the echos rattling the halls settled, the remaining men spoke to one another in a different language. After a moment of deliberation, it sounded like the group came to a conclusion. With a round of approval, the group stormed away - deeper into the structure.

"Shit." Jack backed from the door, heart racing. "Okay."

Serval tilted her head, crossing her arms in disapproval. "Did you hear that? I wonder what's going on."

"Okay. Okay. Serval!" He gestured at the girl, and then at the door. "We can talk later. Yeah? Right now, we need to get out of here. Help me find a way-"

Serval tensed her legs, then, in a stunning display of force, pummeled through the door. The hinges scattered outside as the door smashed against the opposite wall. She smirked, then looked down.

"Wha- what?!" Eyes wide, hands shaking, feet soaking up blood, Serval quaked. She felt her head melt, eyes narrow, chest flare and muscles tense - a new feeling, a new sensation, a terrible, terrible wave. "No, what? This isn't.. Hey! Home!? What's…"

"Talk later, remember?" Jack stepped out into the open. He noted Serval's abnormal strength, but the time to talk was very much not now. The door led into a white hallway, and sure enough, they had been thrown into a storage room earlier. Once he had taken in his surroundings, Jack knelt to retrieve Frank's pistol.

The captor, and all his companions, had been shot clean in the forehead and now lie across the ground. They died instantly.

Wincing, the pilot pulled out the gun. It was a sleek, yet certainly aged Glock chambered in what looked to be 9mm - he didn't give himself enough time to keep looking.

"Hey!" Serval exclaimed, caught between a panic and her instincts. "That's not yours! They're hurt, can't you… can't you see?"

Jack said nothing as he rose to his feet.

The others ran down to the right, so that must be the exit. However, they must've heard the door come down. Jack weighed his options.

"Fuck it." Waving, he stepped over the Japanese man and went down towards the right. "Let's go now, yeah?"

"Oh…" Serval struggled to take a step, frozen in place at the sight of the horror. "We do, we do need to go. Let's please leave this awful place!"

Taking no time to nod, Jack raced down the hall, Serval following close behind.

They darted past rooms, windows, notice boards reading faded updates, cracked screens, bullet holes and corridors dashed in darkened splotches of sickly red. This was old blood.

"Wǒ tīng dào yǒurén!"

An exclamation further down the hall made Jack stop in his tracks, coming to a stop beside a desecrated vending machine.

"Wǒ bùyào, ah…" Another voice replied, hurried. "Zǒu!"

Breathing deeply, hoping to calm himself, Jack waited as the voices scurried further away. They were in a rush, that was for sure, but why?

"Okay, okay." Jack ushered on Serval, who had waited behind out of what might have been fear. "Can't be much further."

The Chinese ducked to the left, down a corridor that led deeper into the facility. Staring ahead, the pilot noticed an exit sign mounted on the wall. They were headed in the right direction, but also an obvious direction.

Taking a moment to breathe, his mind calmed ever so slowly. They were rushing out of the building, but so were the other people. There's a good chance they would try to trap them at the exit, but that was only if they were actively looking for them. From Jack's perspective, they were trying to do something else, and fast - not grab them.

After all, if they really wanted to dispatch of Jack and Serval, they would've done it back in the storage room, right?

Taking another deep breath, Jack O'brien stepped out from behind the vending machine. The way to the exit would be along these signs, and from there, anything could happen.

* * *

 **BZZZZZZZRT!**

"That was way too close!" Captain Thomas Henry manned the bridge of the ship, arms tight and face stern.

The CIWS had acquired its target and swung into position, opening fire at the incoming projectile at its own discretion. Despite the danger poised to the crew of the USS Springfield from further missile threats, they felt more than ready for anything else that might be thrown at them after their brisk brush with death.

"Come right to course, zero nine zero."

The officer on the bridge nodded, adjusting levers across his station.

"Coming right to course, zero nine zero, aye sir."

The Captain glared towards the land, not even thirty nautical miles away. They were too close for comfort. At this range, they would be easy pickings for any land based missile platform - he knew they should've been prepared for this.

The open ocean felt cramped, and Thomas only imagined where the missile could've originated from. It seemed like it came from inland, to the north, which was why he decided to change course to move slightly away from land. He needed more time to think of what to do next.

"Captain…" His Executive Officer spoke up, clacking a phone down. Someone had just hailed them from within the ship. "Get this. Sonar Sup reports POSSUB along the coastline to the north. They're narrowing down its location as we speak, but it's close, and they think that it fired those missiles at us."

This was new, and this was bad. If there was a hostile submarine in the water, it would have a field day picking them off. Why did it fire missiles, then? They had been undetected up until then, and they could easily have engaged with torpedos.

Thinking on his toes, Thomas stifled a sigh of relief. At least they knew that it was there and it wasn't a land based system that fired on them. Things could have been a lot more complicated if they knew that the island was home to enemies that not only had access to those weapons and knew how to use them, but also had been there long enough to set them up.

Now, how to deal with this submarine…

Reaching for the phone closest to him, Thomas Henry sought out his helicopter bay.

"Helo Control, this is the Captain, what's the status on our helicopter?"

"Captain, Helo Control, helo is at alert status thirty." Came the brisk response.

"Okay." He frowned, watching the island. "Get us ready for ASW, I needed a green deck and a helo in the air ten minutes ago."

"Aye, setting green deck and outfitting the Helo, Captain."

Satisfied, Thomas returned his phone and nodded at the XO. "While they investigate the submarine, I need a team ready to work towards the crash sites. Get me six soldiers… and Kaban." He continued in good humor. "I'm sure she'll be good with directions."

The second in command turned towards the Captain, who held his hand over his phone again.

"We have less than thirty minutes before that helo is in the air." Henry nodded. "Get them equipped, then I'll brief them."

"Aye." The XO affirmed, sliding into his seat. "They'll be set."

* * *

Serval was skeptical of Home. He was snappy, uppity, and just so... uptight… but he was good at telling people what to do, and he was keeping her calm when she would have loved to start screaming for dear life. There was so much wrong today, so many strange things...

They had ducked into a room layered in white. White tables, white panels, white tools, white everything! Home said that they were lost, but how was that possible? He somehow knew they were heading in the right direction earlier. Maybe his special talent had to do with finding directions, not answering questions, but that doesn't explain why they got so lost all of a sudden.

"What are you looking at?" Serval asked, curiosity drawing her closer.

Home was looking at a funny looking white pad with all sorts of black lines on it. His eyes scanned the thingy, which looked like fabric, but wasn't. Last Serval saw something like this, it was in the Library with the Owls. This was called paper, right?

"Hush." He demanded, shutting her away.

What was his deal? Why was he like this? If they were going to be friends, they couldn't keep each other at such a distance like this.

Serval stood back, looking at a board covered in paper. Strange symbols dotted each one, like the squiggly black lines, but there were so many different types it gave her a headache! The Savanna cat's head hurt a lot, and she wasn't really sure why.

It could be that strange rod that was in her leg a while ago. It could be that last night's Japari Bun was bad. Or, it could be because of what she saw earlier… the people on the ground, hurting…

She shook her head. Like Home said, she would think of it later. Right now, something exciting was happening. Wait. What was going on again? They were supposed to be escaping some scary people, but why? Did Home not want to play with them?

"Serval, come here."

Oh? Home wanted her? Did he want to keep moving, or play a game, or talk about Japari Sticks, or-

"Hold this." Home held out a bundle of papers held together by some sort of thin shell. Serval accepted the item, frowning and confused. "And this. Don't drop those, I need them."

"What are they?" Serval wondered out loud. Home was moving again, shuffling around the room as if he lost a limited edition Japari Bun.

"They're a surprise tool that will help us later." He smirked, pulling papers off the wall board. "No, they're just binders."

"Binders?"

"Yeah." He cracked a smile. "You know, stuff you use to… uh... sit on when you get tired."

"Like a chair?" The Yellow Cat's eyes widened with glee. "So you have a place to sit?"

"Uh… sure. Just don't sit on them."

Serval's felt her cheeks puff up as her ears twitched. "Wh-why not?"

"Oh," Home looked like he was having fun as he opened small doors above and below countertops… shelves, she remembered. Was he playing a game? Was he playing a game without her? "You can't sit on them because if you do, you break them."

"So… why are they for sitting?"

"Because…" Home stopped rummaging for a moment, as if he were thinking. "Because humans are weird like that."

"Humans?" Serval jumped at the mention of the word, her voice traveling far. "Humans? Are you a human?"

"What," Home looked like he was having too much fun as he waved his arms in exasperation. "You're not?"

"No, I'm not." She frowned, lowering the binders.

The strange man cleared his throat, then closed shut the last cabinet. "Okay. We have what we need. Let's keep moving, I promise we can talk later."

He promised…

Serval's mind lingered on the phrase. Promises were big. Promises meant a lot. To promise they would talk later, Ser-

Home flicked Serval's ear to snap her out her mind. He widened his eyes and urged her onwards. Eager to leave, Serval nodded.

"Come on, now!"

* * *

Deep within the USS Carl Vinson, many nautical miles out at sea, a lone officer sat, near dozing off, in the Aircraft Carrier's Electronic Warfare suite. Blinking lights, the hum of computers, and the dull, almost indiscernible roar of the ocean would be enough to lull anyone to sleep.

Before this officer's closed eyes, a notification blinked. A transmission had been intercepted and was ready for deciphering. From the Japaris and destined for the deep sea, its destination would remain a mystery while the navy got to work.

 **XXXXXXXXX**

 **XXXXXMAJORXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **XXXXXXXXXWEAPON ACQUIREDXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **XXXREACTORXXXXXXXXXX40**

 **XXXXXXXXXXXSIBERIAN TIGERXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXEMERGENCYXXX**

 **XXXXXXXXX**

 **XXXXX**

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading this far! I do apologize for the wait, and again, I hope next chapters can come soon.**

 **Some of you asked for when the next chapter will come: I hope to update every one to two weeks at most.**

 **I'm extremely glad that people are asking questions and all - I love smoothing things out, so at the end of each chapter I hope to circle back to some things that might be confusing, if at all.**

 **\- Remember that the 'war' begun in 2012, and since that time it became 2018. Progress on development and procurement of vehicles (and even the training of some specialized personnel) came to a standstill when society broke down, so it just isn't feasible to get the new technology produced, if it even finished research.**

 **- A number of things have yet to be clearly defined, and intentionally, too \- but keep in mind that the sensors detecting the earlier missiles received radar emissions from a radar similar to the S-300, but may not have been the S-300. More specifically, the weapon detected was an S-300PS 5N63S which appears as the symbol (10) on a receiving RWS. There are other variants and other weapons which use a similar radar, which will all appear as (10) on the RWS. Tl;DR it could be anything using that radar.**

 **EDITS/ERRORS**

 **\- My Chinese is bad.**

 **\- ONE MILLION GRAMMAR EDITS**

 **\- ONE MILLION ENGLISH EDITS**

 **\- This chapter's editor is a grammar nazi**


	5. Chapter 5

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SECRET

232040Z SEP 18 - IMMEDIATE PRIORITY

TO: COMMANDING OFFICER SPRINGFIELD (DDG 151)

FROM: POTCF (PRESIDENT OF THE COMBINED FLEET)

SUBJ: JAPARI ISLANDS COMBAT SEARCH AND RESCUE (CSAR)

1\. SITUATION: A WX: SCATTERED CLOUDS FORECAST NEXT 24-36 HOURS. NO SIGNIFICANT PRECIPITATION EXPECTED IN AO. WINDS NW AT 5 KTS, SEA STATE 2.

B. ENEMY: UNKNOWN NUMBER OF PRESUMED HOSTILE FORCES EXIST IN JAPARI ISLAND CHAIN. AT LEAST ONE S-300 TYPE SAM IN THE AREA OF OPERATIONS(AO). **CERULEAN PRESENCE PRESUMED TO BE STRONG** , AS INDICATED BY INFORMANT 'KABAN'. **UNKNOWN THIRD PARTY, DUBBED 'FRIENDS' ARE SAID TO EXIST IN AO**. IN ADDITION, POSUB REPORT NECESSITATES CAUTION.

ENEMY FORCES LIKELY TO STRIKE. DO NOT TAKE ACTION AGAINST ENEMY FORCES UNLESS YOU BELIEVE GROUND TEAMS, YOUR VESSEL OR ITS HELICOPTER ARE IN DANGER.

C. FRIENDLY: CVN 76 EXITING AO FOR OKINAWA. NO SUPPORT AVAILABLE.

D. ATTS AND DETS: NO CHANGE.

2\. MISSION: THE PRESIDENT OF THE ALLIED FLEET HAS CLEARED YOUR REQUEST TO **CONDUCT SEARCH AND RESCUE FOR DOWNED ASSAULT TEAMS**.

DEPLOY AIR ASSAULT TEAM, TO CRASH SITE. ONCE AREA HAS BEEN SECURED, RETRIEVE SURVIVORS FOR EXFIL. INVESTIGATE FURTHER AT YOUR DISCRETION. ATTEMPT TO POSITIVELY IDENTIFY SUBSURFACE CONTACT.

IF CONTACT IS ESTABLISHED, **ATTEMPT TO COMMUNICATE**. DO NOT ASSUME CONTACTS ARE HOSTILE.

3\. EXECUTION: WEAPONS TIGHT. YOU ARE AUTHORIZED TO ENGAGE TARGETS PRESENTING HOSTILE INTENT OR CONDUCTING EXPLICIT HOSTILE ACTS AT NO LOSS TO YOUR OWN.

B. GROUPINGS AND TASKS: UC NO CHANGE.

SUPPORT EL NO CHANGE.

C. COORDINATING INSTRUCTIONS: NO CHANGE.

D. OPERATIONAL RESTRICTIONS: RELEASE OF SPECIAL WEAPONS IS NOT AUTHORIZED OR ANTICIPATED AT THIS TIME.

4\. ADMINISTRATION AND LOGISTICS: NO CHANGE.

5\. COMMAND AND CONTROL: A. EMCON STATE C.

B. COMMANDING OFFICER SPRINGFIELD (DDG 151) IS OFFICER IN TACTICAL COMMAND.

6\. GOOD LUCK, POTCF SENDS.

SECRET

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* * *

Ten whole minutes had passed since Kaban and Rebecca had been sent down to the helicopter bay in the rear of the USS Springfield. The hangar bay had long since been wrenched open, revealing an old SH-60 Seahawk strutting out cold on the deck. As its rotors begun twirling through the milky twilight, frothy South Pacific waves swished and sloshed over the destroyer's aging hull.

The two girls stood out like a sore thumb amongst the assault team, who, having been briefed earlier on the impending mission, were still most wary of their newest addition. Conducting Combat Search and Rescue was one thing, but babysitting some kid? Whispers floated through the team of seven as they pulled rifles and ammunition out of crates and lockers. Rebecca, facing Kaban, shrugged them off as she tossed the other a wristwatch and a strange set of goggles.

"It's not what he says," Rebecca snarled, fastening her helmet straps and her ponytail before fumbling with her vest. "It's how he says it."

Kaban looked on in abject curiosity, watching how the other girl's fingers danced around each buckle as though they had rehearsed this moment a hundred times over. Glancing at the wristwatch, the human wondered if she was putting it on the right way.

"Now what I'm saying is," Rebecca sighed as she flicked at Kaban's hat, stealing her attention. "Some people can be real assholes."

Humming in absent affirmation, Kaban grimaced at all the strange contraptions the group had donned. Hard hats called helmets, firm shirts named bulletproof vests that looked too flimsy to protect, all the way to elaborately designed rods called guns that were supposed to be able to punch someone from far away - at least, that was what Rebecca told her earlier to shut her up.

"I'm still not sure who you mean, though. Who is 'he?'" Kaban piqued, keeping an eye on the helo's tail, almost afraid to match eyes with her armed counterpart.

"It doesn't matter." Rebecca's voice was laced in fire. Shrugging a pouch of assorted navigational tools into her vest's MOLLE, she spat over the helicopter's roaring engines. "It never did."

"Clear the deck!" From the flight deck of the ship, an attendant howled. He pointed at the two girls, gesturing them towards the beating rhythm of the rotor. "Dusting off in sixty seconds!"

The others had been boarding while they had talked. Why didn't they say something?

Rebecca pulled a weapon up to her chest, beckoning Kaban to follow. The sound had gotten so intense, the wind brushing over them so fierce, it was a fight to just keep their eyes open.

Storming the vehicle, loading into a row of seats alongside a half-dozen battle hardened men, Kaban wondered if it was best to mind her own business. The doors slammed shut behind her as she figured some things were best left alone.

Rebecca was so kind as to help Kaban strap herself in, but only after she had attended to herself. Slowly at first, the vehicle yanked her into the air, up and up and up above the ocean and her world, the foreign feeling dragging the girl off balance as the others shot her dirty looks.

This wasn't a night raid to gather supplies on some ruined city, the girl soldier had told her. This was a combat operation, an engagement. At least, it could be. Rebecca didn't really know and neither did anyone else when Kaban asked them. As such, she assumed that things could either be like her first exchange with Serval or her great fight with that giant black Cerulean. Anything could happen.

After the briefing earlier, the ship's Captain spoke to Kaban. He said that she had been brave, that she was important and that she had a lot of potential, whatever that meant. She was still confused, still curious, still dreaming of what humanity had to offer that tasks and potentials meant little but empty words. It was in dreaming, Kaban concluded, with that lingering hope for the future, that she decided she would endure.

Kaban wanted to see the moon rise over the ocean, watch the stars sprinkle flavor through the waves. From her seat in the helicopter, she arched her head to snatch nothing but a peek.

With grim resolve, she knew that if there was a time to prove herself, it would be now.

* * *

" _Baseplate, this is November, chalk boots down in one mike or less. Touching down one click from the wreck, how copy? Over_."

Kaban wasn't given a gun, but like the others around her, she was given a wonky headset to curl over her ears. The sound of the pilot's voice was muffled by static and the droning of the engine, with the words she was hearing passing right over her head. Baseplate? November? Wasn't November a month on the calendar?

The response from the other end of the line must have satisfied the pilot, who nodded with approval.

" _Sounds good. November out._ "

Kaban kept her eyes glued on the door-mounted window as the helicopter begun to tilt. A sudden sinking sensation enveloped her body, but this time, it wasn't nervousness.

" _Hey, Kaban, you're making me look bad._ " Rebecca, sitting next to the girl, grimaced at Kaban's night vision set. Due to the helicopter's roar, she spoke through the radio. " _Let me see your head_."

As the helicopter begun to drift into the treeline, deeper and deeper into the dead of the night, Kaban's partner grasped the other's goggles. Tightening the straps around her hat and under her chin, the machine didn't feel so awkward anymore.

" _Okay. They're secured now, trying using them_."

"Like this?" Kaban adjusted the viewports over her eyes, and Rebecca helped fine-tune them to Kaban's head. She thought it was dark earlier, but now? How were these supposed to help?

" _Here_." The soldier concluded, fiddling with the machine one last time. Kaban's eyes lit up with a flash of green as the night observation device spurred to life.

It took a moment to adjust to the brightness. Shapes, outlines and figures, however fuzzy, formed before her very eyes. Her vision narrowed through the goggles, and everything was cast in a thick veil of green and grey, but she could see!

" _Better_?" Rebecca asked, tensing up as the helicopter lowered to touch the ground.

"A lot better." Kaban replied, taking the time to take in the interior of the helicopter. The others had been looking at her the whole time. That was… embarrassing.

She really wanted to investigate the machine some more. Seeing in the dark was a completely new sensation. It almost seemed magical! Kaban felt the helicopter creep deeper into its descent, and knew it was only a matter of time before it was time to go.

The vehicle touched down with a thump, and with it came the opening of the doors. Crashing open with the bawling cries of the rotor, Kaban was relieved to have the headset to protect her ears.

To her left and right, soldiers unbuckled and stormed into the grass. Wordless and automatic, Rebecca followed suit, but paused to remember their plus-one.

" _Can you get out?_ " She voiced over the radio from the ground, waving Kaban outside.

"Umm…!" Scrambling her arms over her body, the girl struggled to release her restraints. Taking an added second to stand, Kaban hurried to trail Rebecca out of the helicopter.

Soldiers slammed the doors closed while their companions had formed a circle around the rotary-winged beast. With weapons at the ready, Kaban realized how tense this moment really was, or rather, how tense this moment was supposed to be.

They landed on the edge of a forest, the roots and rocks of woodland lying scattered amongst fallen leaves. Trees, with branches arching from the helicopter's wind, dotted the horizon as Kaban felt a odd sense of familiarity come onto her. In the distance, a towering volcano lie dormant, spewing out a rigid clump of majestic Sandstar. Through her goggles, it all looked a bit fuzzy, but that mountain was certainly a familiar sight for the girl.

She was back on Japari Park in the way she least expected it.

Wind trailed into a frail gust as the helicopter's engine powered up, heaving its metal frame into the night.

Kaban felt rather awkward as she stood in the middle of the six-man circle, not exactly sure what she was supposed to be doing right now. Everyone else seemed to have things under control, and if anything, they made it clear that they didn't quite care for her presence.

As the bleating helicopter faded towards the ocean, Rebecca pulled away from her spot in the formation. Returning to Kaban's side, she pointed at her ear protection, mouthing words with a whisper that Kaban couldn't quite hear.

Kaban raised a nervous eyebrow as she pulled off her headset.

"Hey, buddy." Rebecca grunted as she exchanged glances at the man kneeling directly behind herself. Gesturing with a thumb at him, the soldier continued. "Howard wants to know why it's so quiet."

That was an unfamiliar name to Kaban. She could've sworn might've had heard it only once before, back during the briefing. Howard was the team's leader and was responsible for making the decisions of the group, just like how Lion and Moose had their respective groups as well. Kaban thought that he was always a little too serious, especially with how he kept looking at her, but if he was in charge then Kaban wanted to do her best to make a good impression.

"Uh," She started, stomach sinking. "I'm… not sure."

Rebecca returned a blank stare. With the helicopter out of the picture, it suddenly became a grave concern as to the origins of the deafening silence that swamped the crew. No night owls, no bird calls… no animals. Eerie.

Wind twirled between Kaban's locks as she replied with nothing but a frown.

"Fucking weird, man." Howard muttered, coming to his feet. He stowed his weapon and came to the middle of the circle, pulling a compass out of his chest webbing.

"Okay." He addressed the group, barely raising his voice above a whisper. "We're moving north for half a click, then heading 330 for another half. That should take us directly to the crash site. No questions?"

Howard clapped the device shut after a round of affirmations. At the sound, the group rose and begun their trek directly into the woods, mindful and mission-oriented.

Kaban followed close behind Rebecca, who was assigned by Howard to 'keep pace.' The subordinate grumbled in disapproval, but the job had to be done, it seemed.

As they pressed deeper into the woods, Kaban could almost feel the same sort of rush that she felt with Serval all that time ago… except this time, she had a lot more friends with her. Well, not Friends, friends, but humans. And maybe not even friends at that, but more like acquaintances.

It was obvious that most everyone didn't want to talk to her, and Howard had only faced her out of necessity. Were they shy? They didn't seem like they were. Were humans supposed to be so tough? Kaban sure didn't feel tough, so it probably wasn't a human thing. Probably. The bottom line was that they weren't friendly, and that was for sure.

Rebecca was keeping to the right of Howard, who wanted the group in a tight diamond formation or something like that. Kaban followed in the other's footsteps as closely as possible, partially due to a desire not to screw up but also because, for some reason, it made her feel a little bit safer.

At around half a kilometer, Rebecca called out to Howard to adjust the course. Through his green-veiled vision, the Squad Leader pointed a little to the left, directing the team that way. In addition he pulled on his headset, delivering a brief update to the captain of the USS Springfield.

Kaban was utterly fascinated by the coordination of the group. The way they signaled, moving as one body, keeping the whole organization updated… this was an lesson in harmony that found no parallels in Kaban's previous adventure.

With the walk drawing into monotony and the sound of walking matching a dreary metronome, it was easy for Kaban's mind to drift off. Off to better times, how everyone else was doing, what might Serval be up to… all things that wouldn't have led to this moment. Not logically. Today, yesterday… it was all illogical. Deep down, Kaban felt how much she wanted to go back to when things made sense. Back with all the Friends. When humanity seemed so lavish and mysterious, so malleable and fresh. This wasn't what humanity was supposed to be, right?

In the midst of Kaban's introspection, Howard raised a fist, snatching the girl off guard.

The group collectively came to standstill and some came slithering to a kneel. Frozen and attentive, every individual became a sensor. Luckily, Kaban managed to catch herself before bumping into Rebecca, and decisively mimicked the girl before her.

Through the trees, between the bushes and over the leaves, the wreckage of an SH-60 Seahawk lie disassembled between branches and haphazardly across the forest floor. With the rotor scattered through the area and the tail crooked and bent, it didn't look like a person could've survived such a devastating crash.

Through the green lens of her night vision, Kaban could see into the dark. But with that said, the girl remained terrified of what she couldn't see.

Rustling of leaves, crackling bark, twinging of twigs and hints of movement… something was out there.

Howard's raised fist stood as stolid as ever, now protruding two fingers. Dangling them above his head, he waved them forwards, towards the ruined Seahawk.

Two people from the front of the diamond shuffled onwards, and Kaban assumed they were supposed to check for survivors.. or act as bait for whatever might be out there. No matter what they were supposed to do, with something out there, it couldn't end well.

They disappeared between the trees and landed themselves amidst the cockpit. After a tense minute of searching, they returned to the formation.

"Bodies." One of them whispered, kneeling beside Howard. "Looks like they're all gone."

Rebecca diverted her gaze. With a pair of deep breaths, she noticed how beautiful the moon was over the treetops. Over an organic land, arable and clean. Not the ocean of isolation, recession. Her father would've wanted that. She had to believe it. She had to.

Solemn and with a nod, Howard reached for his radio.

"Baseplate-"

"Fuck!" Someone broke the silence with a shrill yelp, coming to their feet and waving their weapon around. "I got- there's something out there!"

Kaban tensed up. The other soldiers, including Rebecca, turned to face the shouter who had since shouldered his rifle.

"Wreckage is devoid of life. Ground team has unknown contact to the north-northeast of the crash site. Out." Howard finished. Returning to his weapon, he, too began looking towards the noise.

"What did you see?" Another man asked, peering down his iron sights.

"Two figures, like a person but… fast." He snapped. "Went from left to right."

"Watch our right," Howard instructed Rebecca with a wave. He pointed at the remaining men. "Set up a base of fire surrounding the perimeter. Let's go, now."

Calm and collected, minus a few shaky breaths, the group spread out to face their designated directions. Kaban wasn't told to do anything, so she resorted to ducking behind Rebecca.

For all their preparation, it didn't seem like much of anything was out there. No more noise, no more movement, no one spoke, but no one even dared to shift in their spot.

Minutes passed without so much as a peep. With the whistling wind highlighting the tension in lue of action, the softly shimmying leaves threatened to lull Kaban drowsy.

Kaban's heart swooped into a marathon with the faint rustling of leaves on her right. Rebecca heard it too, and pivoted herself to face the threat.

"O-oh okay!" She stammered under her breath, pointing the barrel of her rifle downrange.

Through the shrubbery was a pair of fat ceruleans, the duo hovering cautiously around the perimeter. They weren't poised to strike, not at that distance of about a hundred meters. They were circling them, watching them, waiting…

"I got two cellies," Rebecca called out, keeping her eyes on the targets. "Heading north from south-southeast, uh…"

Howard bolted to the girls' position with his weapon extended. Coming to a knee, he squinted through his night vision in hopes of acquiring the target.

"I don't see 'em." Pausing, he looked back to the rest of the team. Unnerved and knowing how threatening a Cerulean swarm was, the group kept fingers above their triggers and worked to keep their breathing in check.

"No, look further right." Kaban watched as Rebecca pointed into the woods, over the barrel of her gun. "Between the big oak and the fallen log, yeah? They're looking right at us."

The Squad Leader nodded, finding the pair drifting behind a dense pattern of trees. If there were two, there must be more in the area. There always were more.

Howard, along with the others, remembered how deadly Ceruleans could be despite their wonky appearance. With no organic fear and no hint of self preservation, they would strike without warning in coordinated groups of varying sizes. First demonstrated during the Oahu Emergencies of 2015, evolving Cerulean intelligence baffled theorists who had supported the prevailing containment strategies at the time. Since 2015, that intelligence had become more aboriginal, asymmetrical, random and fierce. This behavior of initial stalking was nothing new, but as with every engagement, anything could happen.

* * *

" _Baseplate, this is the ground team, we have a visual on two ceruleans at our 075, moving north. They're circling us. With the crash site empty, we're requesting further orders. How copy? Over."_

The CIC within the USS Springfield was buzzing with friction as stations rattled commands, readings and updates through their datalink. Screens were alight with vital information on current updates, operational statuses, ocean topography and weapons systems' readings.

At the center of the entropy was Captain Thomas Henry, bearing more than just a single bead of sweat down his forehead. Watching an illuminated map in the middle of the Combat Information Center took a lot of concentration, especially when digesting constantly updating data.

While officers and enlisted shuffled around him, Thomas was accompanied by his ship's TAO. The Captain kept his eyes on the screen as the officer manned the station, a collective tension mounting as the ground team's report flooded in.

"Ground team, Baseplate," He started, cupping a headset's microphone around his mouth. "What's your location in relation to the crash site? Over."

After a hot second, Howard's deep voice rang true. " _About two-five meters directly east of the crash site, over._ "

Hearing this, the TAO dragged a marker onto the map's grid. If all the information was accurate, they could coordinate effectively and ensure a more successful operation.

Thomas divulged into the map, referencing the crash location with other landscape features surrounding the ground team. The only patch of clear land in the area would be the place the had just entered from, meaning that they would have to walk another kilometer to reach safety. And even then, the helicopter was over the ocean, searching for the submarine… it could take up to ten whole minutes for it to reach the landing zone.

"Ground team, we have tomahawk missiles on standby should you need them, along with support from the five inch gun. Take up a defensive posture for now, November is en route. ETA ten mikes, over."

The connection grew spotty and Howard's response was difficult to discern, but the tone was that of an affirmation. Taking this to be a good thing, the Captain stood by on the line and requested him to repeat his last message.

In the meantime, the TAO alerted Helo Control to divert the Seahawk to retrieve the ground team. The problem with that became evident with a yellowish pop-up on the screen.

"Captain," The TAO gestured at the alert before returning to his station, fiddling with the incoming information. "Helo's tied up right now. November's got one… no…"

More beige pop ups dotted the screen around the helicopter. At the moment, it was in the middle of using it's dipping sonar to search for underwater contacts. The possible subsurface contact from before was in the area, and finding it was a major priority.

"Five, six, seven…"

The Captain lowered his hands, watching with furrowed brows as the screen filled up with popups.

"Okay, Sonar Sup's working to filter out each contact. Okay. Okay." The USS Springfield's TAO took a deep breath.

"Quit overreacting," Thomas sighed, rubbing the back of his own head. "Wait until the acoustics have been cleaned up and we can work from there."

Every second spent was another second the ground team would spend in peril. Despite the dangers threatening them, the subsurface contacts had to be investigated to ensure the safety of the vessel. With the ship taking priority, the ground team would have to wait.

All things considered, that was a painful thought. To Thomas, the ordeal was worse than he would have anticipated, especially when thinking of their new addition. Kaban. They had spoken moments before the team's departure and Thomas had the impression there was some rapport between them. It was funny… he never had kids. He and his wife never got around to raising a family. That stung a lot. But here was this poor girl, stranded and isolated amongst the worst case scenario… was it wrong to feel a tug to the heartstrings? Bringing everyone back safe was paramount.

"Captain," The Tactical Officer waved over the ship's leader, relieved. The pop ups on the screen drastically reduced in number as the datalink was updated with more current information. "Only three contacts remaining. One's just biological, looks like a dolphin. Sonar was getting confused by it's clicks."

Thomas smirked, patting the other on the back. "See, what did I tell you? Wait." He paused. "And the other contacts?"

"Second and third are still unknown, zero emissions from them."

With the contacts narrowed down and well outside of a possible engagement range, the ship was safe. At least for now. The ground team was still in need of extraction, however, and the helo was still ten minutes out.

Captain Thomas Henry was rather pleased to get all his concerns squared away. Things could only get back on track from here, and everything was going to turn out alright. Right?

The world had something else in mind, however. The TAO raised a hand once again, this time keeping his eyes glued on the screen. This was a direct link to the helicopter's dipping sonar, reading a continuous stream of audible data as it was being received. And something was off.

"Captain, you're going to want to hear this." The officer removed his headset, presenting it to Thomas. "Those aren't clicks, sir."

The Captain of the USS Springfield draped the headset over his ears, less intrigued and more concerned than he would have liked.

The audio was coming in crisp and clear, much to his dismay. Audio not of a dolphin, not of echolocation, not of anything in this world.

Those were words. Someone or something was trying to talk to them.

* * *

"Damn." Jack 'Home' O'brien muttered under his breath. He stood before a vast expanse of land, high up where the sky threatened to touch the ground, where the moon was the sun and the trees cluttered with hushed, wind-borne secrets. This was the night, and he was on the side of a powerful volcano.

The air was getting thin, but the elevation wasn't all that bad. The view was fantastic, with the entire park within view cast in moonlight. Treetops marinated in sparkles, a desert ridden with forebodings crevices, all the way to a snow-capped mountain range to the east… this was Japari Park. This was something completely different.

"What are you waiting for?" Serval held the binders Jack had given her close to her heart. _So naïve_ , he thought. _So dumb_. "I'm getting sleepy, don't you want to find some shelter?"

Jack shrugged her off with an annoyed groan. "Yeah, let's get away from the exit first." Looking behind him, a hidden, reinforced entrance to the bunker lie encased in concrete.

From what he could gather from the documents he skimmed, this was just one of many entrances to a myriad of facilities throughout the island. There was more to be known, more to be uncovered… but they had to move.

The hostile force had certainly gone their own way, disappearing without a care for Jack and Serval. With that said, he didn't know if the other exits were close. They could be anywhere by now, and knowing how senselessly they dispatched of the Park Staff…

"Shelter." Jack nodded, repeating the word. The moonlight illuminated the barren mountainside well enough to ensure someone wouldn't trip on some crack, but it didn't seem as though Serval seemed to mind the darkness one bit. Meandering her way around the rocks, she took a deep breath before pointing north, towards the ocean on the horizon.

"The Library is that way!" She proclaimed with pep. "I'm sure the professors will let us stay for a while. Maybe longer if you use manners!"

"If that's closest, then…" Jack trailed off, letting his mouth ajar as he stumbled on the thought. There was a chance that the enemy would head for the nearest man-made structure around as well, though there were too many variables involved. Too many risks. It could be that the 'library' structure was occupied by them, or that they were lying in wait for him. No matter what he kept thinking of, the soreness in his bones, the pain in his knees and the grogginess in his eyes prevailed. Risk was everywhere, right?

"Yeah. We can go there." The pilot resigned, looking to Serval. Her cheery yellow eyes reflected the bountiful stars that littered the horizon. The absence of light pollution let them dance through the night like scattered glitter. "Some library."

"It's not just some library!" The Savanna Cat chimed. "It's _the_ **L** ibrary! The smartest place in Japari Park!"

Jack O'brien didn't mind the chiding as long as he'd be sleeping within the hour. Nearly every night on the USS Carl Vinson, for nearly three years, was a lax one. Long showers, nice naps, and few retention exercises. That may have been nice back then, but now that he was needing to use those skills… breaking from a life of plenty was not on the agenda.

Getting back, that was his mission. To live his life way he always wanted. From before the war he saw himself in the clouds when deep down he knew his happiness lie within the confines of comfort. Of course he'd never admit it out loud, and even now he hoped he hadn't blushed at the thought, but to live at ease, stressless and clean… that was an admirable cause.

"Home, just follow me, I'll take you there!" Serval was eager to lead the way, breaking Jack out of his daydreams. In the back of Serval's mind, something felt nostalgic about the whole ordeal. Not quite as familiar as deja vu, but something nice, something comforting. Warm and fuzzy, just the way she wanted to be. The way everyone ought to be.

Serval skipped on ahead as Jack slipped on in tow. Though he hated being led by such a doofus, she seemed like she had been to the Library before. And for what it was worth, Jack could tell that despite being so unintelligent, she was earnest in her intentions. She was honest and willing to help, blindly so at that.

 _Such an idiot…_ Jack scowled, eyes on the animal girl's dinky ears. _But that innocence was worth something._

Serval hummed an upbeat tune through the walk that Jack, partially due to preference and partially due to fatigue, thought was the most annoying thing he had yet to hear. Innocence was not worth protecting, at least to Jack. He would tolerate her for now.

For now, at least until he could finally get off this fucking rock.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Apologies about the inconsistent updates, and here's hoping for a more frequent schedule.**

 **Again, thanks!**

 **EDITS/ERRORS:**

 **\- The ground team should have established 360 degree security instead of a base of fire, which is what you do when in an engagement.**

 **\- Sonar doesn't really work the way described in this chapter, but we're going with it**


End file.
